


Waiting For You

by INTPSlytherin_reylove97



Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Cancer, Cancer Arc, Canonical Character Death, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Engagement, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Cancer, Moving, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPSlytherin_reylove97/pseuds/INTPSlytherin_reylove97
Summary: Daniel and Betty were close, closer than any assistant and boss ( and then friends, the best of friends) could be.  Mistakes happened, naturally.Or: Five Times Daniel and Betty were mistaken as a married couple. And the one time they weren’t.
Relationships: Daniel Meade & Betty Suarez, Daniel Meade/Betty Suarez
Comments: 15
Kudos: 30





	1. OCTOBER 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so Ugly Betty is my comfort show and it breaks my heart there is only so much fanfic for the series. So I decided to just throw this out there because I wanted to write something a little different :)
> 
> And sorry to my usual readers who got a notification for this and don't know 'Ugly Betty'. NOW YA DO!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> And yes, we are working backwards in our timeline ;)

* * *

**_OCTOBER 2_ ** **_017_ **

“Papi! Hurry!” Hilda called out, already camped out in front of the laptop screen. Like clockwork every Sunday afternoon, the little blue thinking bubbles on Skype flashed and danced, the music accompanied matching the beat.

“They aren’t going to go anywhere, mija!” Ignacio shouted back, stuck in the kitchen as he put the remaining empanadas into the oven. When Hilda told him she’d be heading straight over after a client’s photoshoot, he expected her to give a helping hand. Maybe roll out the dough, make a salsita and some rice to go with dinner. He did after all teach her the basics. But of course, that hadn’t been the case. “Dinner is not going to make itself,” he muttered, egg-washing the last two pastries. “Betty will understand if I am not sitting there waiting for her.”

Hilda shot up from her spot in the living room, the Skype music still playing at full volume. She could not miss a moment of their weekly chat—a single evening never seemed to be enough time to catch up on life with her sister. “But Papi,” she hurried over to him, too giddy and anxious, “Betty said she had _big_ news to share—”

“And she will share it when we are all here,” Ignacio told her patiently, opening the oven. “Bobby isn’t even here yet! Don’t you think Betty would want him and her favorite niece to know her big news.” He slid the tray into the top rack and closed the oven door, turning back to his eldest with an all to wise and knowing look. “I know what you are thinking.”

“It’s been almost ten years—” Hilda cried out, fisting her hand before she could rake her fingers through her hair and damage her blow out. “You’d think they’d get the memo!”

Her father sighed, knowing her distress all too well. “Daniel is many things.” The look the two shared spoke volumes of the past antics and catastrophes Daniel Meade had pulled their little family into, though that did not hinder or change their love for him. “But he is a stand-up man at the end of the day. He’d call for my blessing if he was going to propose.”

“This is the same man who has proposed to two women without asking for their parent’s blessing,” Hilda reminded him all too swiftly; she kept a strong memory and tally of her sister’s _friend_. Once a protective older sister, always a protective older sister, Betty being halfway around the world wouldn’t change that. “Do you think he’d be different with Betty?”

Ignacio shrugged. “You and I both know he’s different with her.”

Hilda’s lips pursed, unable to argue on the matter. Daniel was different with Betty; always had been, probably always would be.

Skype’s bopping tune from Hilda’s laptop halted. “Hello! Is anyone there?” Tapping followed, manicured nails rapidly hitting against a screen. “Hilda? Ignacio? Hello? Is the screen frozen— _damn_. God—now I can only see myself. Skype always does this… I told Daniel to just use Google Duo, but does the boy listen to his mother? No. Of course not.”

Hilda refrained an eyeroll and hurried back to the laptop. “Coming Claire! Stop touching anything on your phone.” Within moments she sat back down on the couch, giving the woman her nicest smile. “How’s it going?”

On the screen, Claire stared back deadpan. “I just got out of a meeting with the West Coast offices; they did not take too kindly to the new direction we’re taking Meade Publications. How do you think I am doing?”

Moments like these reminded Hilda how lucky she was to stick to her beauty industry and not branch out into anything office or too-stuffy business related. How her sister did it, she’ll never know. “Right—well, your apparently early. We’re just waiting on a couple more people—”

“My god, Marc—get out of the way!”

Another square popped up, Marc and Amanda shuffling and shifting. Yelps followed, the camera falling at an awkward angle.

Their square popped away before a greeting could even be uttered.

Claire shook her head. “They’ll pop back in later.” Her eyes zeroed in on Hilda, her motherly stern and knowing stare penetrating into her. “Now do you have any idea what this news could possibly be about? Because I am completely in the dark and I absolutely hate it.”

Hilda turned giddy at the question. “I have a theory—"

“How are you doing, Claire?” Ignacio interjected before Hilda could share her engagement theory. He sat down beside his daughter, happy to engage in conversation with the matriarch. “How’s California? As bright and sunny as the postcards say?”

Claire brightened at the sight of Ignacio; the two became fond friends over the years. “Yes. Terribly so. I miss my New York winters.”

“Soon enough you’ll be back home,” he assured her. “And we’ll have plenty of tamales and hot chocolate waiting for you.”

She smiled at the news. “I cannot wait until we are _all_ home,” she lamented. “As much as I am happy for Betty and Daniel, London is just too far away. Even after seven years, I just cannot get used to it. And don’t even get me started on Alexis…”

The porch door opened, followed by the front door. Right arm laden with a bag from the local bakery, Bobby entered the house, a little girl with bouncy curls propped up on his left hip. “I come with dessert!”

“De- _ssert_!” The five year old girl cried out in delight, consumed with the same amount of enthusiasm as her father.

“Isabella!” Hilda called, leaving the sofa to bring her daughter into a warm hug and kiss. “I missed you so much today, mija.” She peppered her little girl with kisses, Isabella squirming away with fitful giggles. Bobby set their daughter down, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek as he made his way to the kitchen. “Come on, we are just waiting for the rest of the family.” She led her daughter to the sofa, sitting the girl on her lap.

Claire instantly cooed at the sight of Isabella, declaring how much she missed the girl and couldn’t wait for Christmas to shower her with gifts.

However, her words were drowned as another square popped up.

“Mandy, I told you to not touch the laptop with chocolate fingers,” Marc muttered as their connection stabilized. He smiled tightly at the rest of them, while Amanda rolled her eyes as she shoved handfuls of _M &M’s_ into her mouth. “Hello Suarezs!” His eyes darted to Claire. “And singular Meade.”

“Marc,” Ignacio greeted readily, along with Hilda and a far shout from Bobby as he checked on the empanadas for his father-in-law. “Amanda, mija—is that your dinner, or are you eating real food?”

Mid-chew, Amanda sat the bowl of _M &M’s_ far away from her and out of the camera’s view. “No…”

Ignacio sent her a simple, knowing look, the woman slumping down in her chair. Amanda’s terrible habit of binge eating sweets followed her all the way over to Paris. She been managing her own pop-up boutique in the heart of the city, tagging along on Marc’s fall _MODE_ sabbatical as he considered his next moves in the industry. Wilhelmina eventually wanted him to become Co-Editor-in-Chief, looking at a retirement in the next ten years, while Marc…Marc wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He only planned to be Creative Director….and he got it. He could stay in the position until his inevitable promotion or perhaps find an alternative road in the fashion magazine industry. An ever evolving medium in the last decade.

Despite their busy schedules, both found time for the weekly family meetings. Because they became family to the Suarez’s—whether they openly acknowledged it or not.

Marc squinted at the screen. “Wait—where is everyone else? Betty is the one who gets on us about these calls and she’s not _here_?”

“Tell me about it!” Hilda agreed wholeheartedly, head bopping at the phrase. “I know I am not the best with meeting on time—” Murmurs sounded off, she scolding everyone with a silent furious look, “—but I came early—hella early this time because she told us to—”

“I am so sorry I’m late Aunt Betty,” came Justin’s greeting, his square bumping Marc and Amanda up into the top left corner. His once dark locks were dyed to a shocking white, a necessary change for his latest role in _The Tempest_. His director was going for a more mystical approach to all the characters. “I had a late rehearsal and—”

“She’s not here yet, Justin,” Marc shouted out, shaking his head in a huff. “We don’t need to hear your mediocre excuses.”

“Oh,” Justin deflated in relief once he realized Marc’s words were indeed true. His gaze then lifted to his mother and sister, grinning at the two. “I just want to let you know I already booked my ticket for Christmas from Chicago to New York!”

“That’s awesome, mijo,” Hilda cheered, “I was going to ask you if you did so. I don’t want a repeat of last year.” No one could forget last year—the Christmas of missed flights, poorly planned itineraries and a cross country road trip to pick up Justin from his MFA Acting program in Chicago. In total, everyone spent about half a day together before Betty and Daniel hopped on a plane back to London for New Years. Claire didn’t even make it to New York, stuck in a layover in Denver for the holiday before going back to California.

“The only downfall is it’s a red eye…” Justin grimaced.

“Just means you’ll get to sleep the entire flight,” Claire chimed in, hoping to lift the young man’s spirits. “Trust me, you’ll grow to like red eyes.”

Justin seemed to be pleased with the assurance. “Cool. I’m just glad we’ll actually all be together for once.”

“Me too, mijo,” Ignacio said, a sad smile forming. “Me too.”

“Wow, things just got all mushy and sentimental,” Amanda groaned. She leaned closer, grinning smugly. “Does anyone want to hear about my new best friend Pierre?”

A series of— “ _No_.” “ _Stop_.” “ _No, please_.”—sounded from several squares in the call.

“That sounds made up,” Bobby stated plainly, sitting down next to Hilda on the sofa. All four of them were squished together on the sofa, but it worked. The laptop was pushed far enough away for the camera to capture all of them, and that was all that mattered in the end.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Marc declared. Amanda scoffed, sending her best friend an annoyed look before facing the rest of the family with full force.

“I’ll have you know Pierre is very real, and not made up! He owns a bakery and gives me free _cris_ - _sonts_.” She enunciated the word aggressively, both Justin and Ignacio’s nose wrinkling in the same manner at the sound. “While I am focusing on myself,” she fluffed her hair, a simpering smile on her lips, “I can be friends with a guy who gives me free bread. By the way, bread is like currency here. So I am winning this French, Parisian lifestyle thing.”

“She’s honestly not,” Marc butted in again, rolling his eyes. “Plus his name is not ‘Pierre’. It’s Angelo. The least French name on this side of Seine River!”

Amanda opened her mouth to argue otherwise when another square popped up in the chat.

“Why did Danny pick Skype? It is honestly the inferior of remote video calls.”

“Alexis!” Claire gasped out, sitting up taller at the sight of her daughter. “Honey, it is so nice to see you.”

In her little square to the bottom right, Alexis seemed to relax at the sight of her mother. “Hi Mom. It’s nice to see you too.” Her eyes then darted to the rest of their party. “Oh…I didn’t expect the whole gang here.” She shifted, an uncomfortable glint in her eye at the sight of all the Suarez’s, and Amanda and Marc. Years away in France caused Alexis to become accustomed to the quiet life. One where she didn’t need to worry about paparazzi or what other’s thought, even if they were coming from a good place. A life she could live alone, with her son. For a long time the only family she believed she needed.

“Where’s little DJ?” Claire asked, eager to see her grandson.

“He’s not so little anymore, Mom,” Alexis told her, an age old reminder. “He’s somewhere in the house,” she huffed, “probably asleep. That kid sleeps like there is no tomorrow. But he’s good. We’re looking at some universities in the U.S. which is good news. He really wants to come back to New York.”

Claire’s hands clasped to her chest, hope filling her eyes. “And you’ll come along…?”

Put on the spot, Alexis seemed unsure. Her eyes darted to the others, who were also waiting with baited breath. “Maybe. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

The matter was put to bed. Over the years, both mother and daughter had learned to not press issues with each other; a difficult but much needed acceptance on both their parts. 

“Does anyone know why Danny and Betty asked us all to be here?” Alexis asked, happy to change the subject. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to speak to my brother, but it’s a little late on my end.”

Marc and Amanda seemed to agree, nodding and humming in agreement.

“Isn’t it a bit late for them too?” Amanda asked, rubbing at her eyes lazily. “London is not that far from us and I am positive Betty still wakes up at the crack of dawn.”

Hilda’s giddiness returned in tenfold. “Actually, I have a theory—”

“Hilda,” Ignacio warned lowly; he didn’t want anyone to get their hopes up. “Don’t.”

“I gotta tell them, Papi,” Hilda waved off.

“Tell us what?” Claire urged, impatient. She no longer lounged in exhaustion in her bungalow off the coast, but stood ready and alert, ready to take any news with reckless abandon.

Hugging her daughter closer to her chest, Hilda felt she was going to burst from excitement at the mere thought. “I think Daniel proposed!”

Silence followed.

Then—

Justin gasped, eyes wide and unable to form any other words besides repeatedly uttering—“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

Marc and Amanda flailed around, giggling and tripping over each other in the absurdity and gleefulness of it all. “ _Lov-ahs_ are going to become _married lov-ahs_?”

“Danny getting married again?” Alexis blinked, befuddled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I have prayed for this day for years,” Claire cried out, tears forming in her eyes. “I never thought he’d have the guts to do it!”

Reaching over to the laptop, Ignacio muted their mic. “And that—” He motioned low to the screen, out of the camera’s view, “—was why I didn’t want you to say anything. You got all their hopes up and we don’t even know what Betty’s big news is!”

“But what else could it possibly be?” Hilda threw back. “They’d been in London together for _years_. If he doesn’t put a ring on it, then what the hell is he doing?”

Ignacio frowned, shaking his head in mild disappointment. “I don’t know. But I am not going to push it or question it. They have a very private relationship. They don’t talk about that stuff with us, so we have to respect their decisions.”

Hilda rolled her eyes, lips pursed as she shrugged a shoulder. “I think it’s ridiculous.” For her, it was plain as day; Betty and Daniel were _it_ for each other. They’d been friends for so long, they’d been living together for so long, they must have been dating since Daniel transplanted himself to London. Marriage was obviously the long awaited next step.

As though speaking of the Devil…

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry you guys,” Betty announced, finally making her long awaited appearance. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a pair of wide-frame glasses perched on her nose. Exhaustion did not begin to describe her overall appearance, however this was the norm. Betty worked herself to the bone to produce the best digital and printed magazine in the U.K., but that did not mean it didn’t come at a cost. The cost being her sleep schedule and unbreakable addiction to caffeine. “I didn’t mean to keep all of you waiting.”

All talk about engagements and weddings hushed the moment she appeared, though that did not mean everyone else kept a decent poker face.

Marc and Amanda looked like they were about to burst in excitement, while Alexis looked beyond constipated, a tight smile on her lips while panic shined in her eyes.

And Claire seemed simply far too happy, a happiness beyond her usual demeanor.

Upon seeing his youngest daughter, Ignacio unmuted their mic. “Mija, don’t worry. We are just happy to see you.”

Betty smiled tiredly at him, her shoulders sagging. “I’m happy to see you too.”

“Where is my son?” Claire asked, eyeing the screen carefully.

“Oh, Daniel? He’s—” A tired murmur was heard from behind Betty. The camera angle allowed a small glimpse of a man—no doubt Daniel—laying on a couch, in slumber. She winced and dropped her voice lower. “He sort of fell asleep while we were waiting.” She turned back around to the camera, apologetic. “It’s the reason why I actually am joining in later than I wanted. I wanted him to be awake when I shared the big news, but it seems like that is just not in the cards.”

“ _Well_ ,” Amanda shrilled, completely disregarding the fact Daniel was asleep, “tell us the big news!”

Betty blinked owlishly, stunned by Amanda’s excitement. “Uh—okay. I thought we’d all catch up more before we dug into it.”

“We already are all caught up,” Hilda waved off, passing Isabella off to Bobby so she could scoot closer to the screen. “Just tell us already!”

Betty’s mouth twisted in an unsure frown, she glancing back at Daniel. A quiet whisper mumbled through the speakers, but none of it was decipherable. Betty hummed, and nodded before turning back to the laptop. “Okay, well. I don’t know where to start…”

“Just tell us how he did it!” Marc screeched, holding back flailing hands. “Was it big? Romantic? Simple? Sentimental? Cheesy? We need to know, Suarez!”

Confused, Betty’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about? Did what?”

“How did Uncle Danny pr—” Hilda covered her daughter’s mouth with her hand before anything else could tumble out. Her words were muffled and she spat in Hilda’s hand, thinking nothing of the moment.

“How did this big news happen?” Hilda recovered, chuckling a little. “Stop holding out on us!”

“Well uh…” Betty shook her head, reaching for her mug of tea. Almost everyone watched her hands move, waiting to catch a glimpse of her left hand. However, it was no dice. Betty was right handed and her burgundy sweater sleeves drowned her arms. “It’s something we’ve been discussing for a while…” she dragged out, “and both of us feel like it is time to make a change.”

“Yeah…” Amanda mumbled, “like a change ten years in the making— _ow_!” She nudged Marc. His strained smile and pinch on her arm warning her to remain silent.

Naturally, Betty ignored their antics.

“MUSE is in a strong place, but it has gained a life of its own,” Betty continued, lamenting on about her start-up magazine. “The magazine truly found it’s footing in the rise of digital media, with the videography divisions and YouTube channels. The magazine and all that comes with it isn’t really my vision anymore and I think I’m okay with that. I think it has become what it needed to be in London.”

Justin exhaled a tense sigh, eyes locked on his aunt’s hand. Still no glint or shine of a ring.

“But it’s still mine. I own a share of it, but with a lot of thinking it made me realize I might want to expand the magazine beyond the British demographic.”

The longer Betty spoke the more everyone else in the video call deflated. Apparently, the big news had nothing to do with an engagement or marriage or anything of the likes.

But about _work_.

“But I also realize print is essentially dead, unless you are a MODE or Vanity Fair,” Betty said, the exhaustion becoming more and more prominent by the second. “But it is also making a slow comeback, another aspect I had to weigh.”

“Your point?” Alexis pressed lightly, the only one willing to speak up.

“My point is, maybe it is time for me to move on. Maybe come back to my roots.”

“What does Daniel think of this?” Ignacio asked, seemingly understanding his daughter’s implications.

“He supports whatever decision I make,” she answered, not entirely thrilled. Though it could have been due to the late hour. “He’s done with his Master’s. He’s been advising some start-ups, done some freelance editing on the side, and still is managing his share of Meade Publications however he can from over here. I think…I think we both just miss home,” she confessed. “We miss working together.”

No one knew what to say, clearly not expecting such a radical change of news. Needing to get the ball rolling, after all it was already past midnight for some of them, Hilda asked, “So what you’re saying is…?”

“Daniel and I are moving back to New York.”

Silence followed

“Ugh! No wedding?” Amanda cried out. “And I was so looking forward to being your bridesmaid. Whatever, Betty.”

“ _Wedding_?” Betty uttered. The word snapped her out of her somber mood. “Who said anything about a wedding?”

Apparently her exclamation was enough to wake Daniel, he shot up from the couch dazed. “What wedding?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes behind _his_ own set of glasses.

Staring at screens all day finally did a number to his vision, glasses becoming a staple in Daniel Meade’s appearance. Both he and Betty would like to say he adapted to wearing glasses swimmingly, but that would be a lie. He went to the optometrist moody and disgruntled, insisting he didn’t need glasses.

His vision test stated otherwise.

“Nice of you to finally join the land of the living, Danny,” Alexis greeted, annoyed yet pleased at the sight of her brother joining the chat. 

“A wedding with your _Lov-ah_ ,” Marc grumbled, “come on! When you are dating someone that long and you tell us there is ‘big news’ the mind doesn’t have many places to jump!”

On the screen, Betty’s face went as white as sheet. “Oh, ummm…” She glanced back at Daniel with a cringe. He fared no better, mouth opening and closing, before ultimately shrugging.

Exasperated sighs and grunts echoed across the call.

“Um, a wedding…” Betty began, turning back to Daniel. He stood up from the couch and sat beside Betty. He had remains of sleep his eyes, making haste to wake himself up by reaching for his own cup of tea. He gave a brief wave to everyone else, his eyes sliding back to Betty. A moment passed, the two engaging in a quick and silent conversation. As though feeling more confident with him beside her, she continued, “…a wedding isn’t the plan right now.”

Disappointed stares echoed across the squares, both Daniel and Betty wincing at the negative reaction. Claire and Ignacio seemed the most affected, as though they were worried they’d never see the day Betty and Daniel finally got married.

Meanwhile, there were individuals who were more vocal than a mere frown. Marc scoffed, unable to look at them. Hilda groaned, rubbing her temple. And Amanda yelped.

“You cannot be serious,” Marc leapt from his sofa, jostling Amanda who was now pouting like a child. “I have money riding on this engagement—I said you two would be engaged by 2018! We are literally months away from the New Year!”

“Seriously?” Daniel said, squinting towards the camera. “Our relationship is not something to bet on—it’s personal and real. Not some office betting pool!”

Marc leaned close to the camera, attempting to meet Daniel’s gaze, as though he could go toe-to-toe through the laptop. “I am the only one who has not needed to change their date since the initial betting pool in 2009. I picked this one years ago, and I will not let you two’s ‘ _we’re going slow’_ ,” he pitched his voice high; no one was sure who’s voice he was mimicking as he sounded neither like Betty or Daniel, “ruin this for me!” He waved to both of them. “This—all of this—is ridiculous!”

“That’s what I said!” Hilda cried out, hands waving to herself. “See Papi? I am not the only one who things their waiting is ridiculous. They are already practically married, they just need to do the vows and whatnot.”

Ignacio sighed, not pleased in the slightest. Of Hilda or Betty’s lack of engagement? No one knew.

“Ugh,” Amanda scrolled through her phone, holding it up higher to her face, “I guess that means I have to delete my tweet.”

Betty’s brows furrowed. “What tweet? I haven’t seen you with your phone at all.”

“It’s called texting without looking, Betty,” Amanda stated as though it were obvious. “But yeah…” A flash of fear came over her, a nervous chuckle bubbling out of her as she slowly set down her phone. Biting her lips together, she clasped her hands under her chin, trying and failing at appearing sweet and sincere. “I might….” Another nervous giggle spilled out her, “I might have tweeted you and Daniel were married…”

_“You did what?”_

* * *

_Bold letters dashed across the screen_ —FASHION TV: BREAKING NEWS.

Suzuki St. Perrier spun to the camera, his spiked hair a shocking silver, matching his two toned silver suit. _“OH MY MEADE!”_ He gasped, covering his mouth in faux-shock. _“DANIEL MEADE IS MARRIED!”_ He nodded to the camera, a five year old photo of Daniel popping up beside him. _“That’s right! You heard me! Daniel Meade, former playboy and editor-in-chief of_ MODE _and shareholder of_ Meade Publications _is off the market ladies!”_

He twirled around to face another camera, capturing a different angle as another photo came up. This time a candid shot of Daniel and Betty—however, the photo must have been at least a decade old. Betty still had braces and wore a frumpy sweater, and Daniel’s hair was spiked up. _“And he married none other than his former assistant, Betty Suarez!”_ He winced. _“Yes, that’s her—"_

The camera swirled again, shock once again smearing across his face as a different photo popped up. A more current one, taken for staff profiles on the _MUSE_ website. “ _Except what? Betty Suarez got a makeover from her assistant days and is the editor-in-chief of a snappy British magazine! Le gasp! A real Cinderella story!”_

Another photo appeared on the screen, a candid shot—where the hell were they getting these candid’s—of Daniel and Betty in London, walking together, arm in arm. Their heads were bent in conversation, unaware of any paparazzi who could be watching in the distance _. “Rumor has it she’s the reason he left_ MODE _nearly a decade ago! Perhaps these two have been married far longer than longtime friend and colleague of the newlyweds, Amanda Somers, had led us to believe!”_

Amanda’s tweet popped up on the screen, her profile picture blown up larger. She winked at the camera, her hair far shorter, resembling her late mother’s signature style.

_“Her tweet reads_ : ‘OMG Daniel and Betty are married! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! Where is my twenty bucks Fat Carol’?” Suzuki’s eyebrows danced up and down. “ _And now the question stands: Will this Fat Carol give Amanda Somer’s her twenty dollars?”_

The _FASHION TV_ logo flashed across the screen before returning back to Suzuki. “ _Now let’s dive into the history of this power couple, DETTY!”_

Daniel slammed the laptop closed, glaring at it.

Of course Amanda had to jump to conclusions and tweet about it.

Typical.

“Well…” Betty began, putting on the kettle. A good cup of tea would do them both some good. There was no way either would be getting sound sleep that night, both of their cell phones blowing up with emails, text messages, and phone calls from colleagues, friends, and distant relatives, “the plus side is when we _do_ get married we won’t have any paparazzi in our business. We can have the way we want it. Just us, out families, and a few good friends.”

“And we take away their cell phones and lock them up in a safe and return them at the end of the reception,” Daniel muttered darkly, “especially Amanda’s.”

From the kitchen Betty sighed. She understood Daniel’s anger and frustration, but at the same time she also understood Amanda’s impulsiveness and her trigger happy tweeting.

On the counter her phone blinked.

** Christina **

**Where in hell’s name was my invitation to this DETTY wedding of the year?**

**_ Betty _ **

**_Not married. Just Amanda being Amanda._ **

****

****

Scrolling past other messages from co-workers and employees—“Congrats!” “I had no idea you were married!” “Why didn’t you say anything?”—and a few strays from random people she knew, Betty finally found Amanda’s long string of messages.

** Amanda **

**I’M SO SORRY BETTY.**

**I JUST THOUGHT YOU GUYS WERE**

**BECAUSE IT WOULD BE SUCH A**

**YOU GUYS THING TO DO!**

** Amanda **

**TELL DANIEL I’M SORRY.**

**HE LOOKED SO UPSET.**

**LIKE REALLY, REALLY, REALLY UPSET.**

** Amanda **

**PLEASE DON’T LET HIM FIRE ME.**

Betty rolled her eyes and replied back to Amanda.

**_ Betty _ **

**_Um, you don’t work for him anymore?_ **

**_Haven’t for the last seven years?_ **

**_So he can’t fire you._ **

****

****

****

** Amanda **

**oh.yeah.**

**I forgot. Old instincts.**

** Amanda **

**PLEASE DON’T LET HIM BLOCK MY NUMBER.**

**HE AND I ARE BASICALLY FAMILY.**

**TYLER WOULD BE SO UPSET.**

**_ Betty _ **

**_Aren’t you and Tyler on a ‘break’?_ **

**_Because he took that job in Rome without telling you?_ **

****

****

****

****

** Amanda **

**Silly Betty**

**Those are just little details.**

**He and I will be fine when he comes back.**

**_ Betty _ **

**_Okay…_ **

****

Deciding it best to leave her phone be, Betty left the device on the kitchen counter. She came over to Daniel, he sitting at the desk, unmoving from when they’d been video calling with their families. Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, and rested her chin on his shoulder.

Like second nature his hand found hers, the two clasping together.

“Stop staring at the laptop like it personally offended you,” she lightly chastised. “You didn’t have to look up to see if the press already got ahold of the news. That’s on you, mister.”

Daniel sighed, craning his neck to the side to get a better look at her.

His hand fiddled with the ring on her left hand. “I guess it’s a good thing no one caught sight of this.” They glanced down at the ring, the pearl and diamonds shining softly under the room’s dim light. “I’m surprised you’re dad kept his cool. I expected him to cave under Hilda’s pressure.”

Betty giggled thinking of how Hilda and kept on looking at Papi like he was insane throughout the call. “He kept the fact he killed a man a secret from his family for thirty years. I think he can keep an engagement a secret.”

“Right,” Daniel mumbled, tensing at the thought. “I like to forget that detail sometimes.”

She refrained a snort at his flash of panic. “And your mother was great! Did better than I thought she’d do.”

“Well, she did go to prison. She learned how to keep secrets there.” He looked back down at her hand, a smile blossoming. “I wanted us to keep this to ourselves a little longer. To just enjoy being engaged.” He leaned his head back against her. “Instead we got ricocheted to marriage and rumors of elopement.”

“Honestly? I didn’t expect us to make it past a day.” He proposed the previous day. They went out for dinner, found a karaoke bar, sang some songs and then took a walk. They passed the London Bridge, a joke about how it was no Brooklyn Bridge was said at some point, but then before she knew it he was on one knee.

Romantic, simple, and sentimental with a dash of cheese. So Marc was technically on the right track about the proposal.

“You’re right,” he nodded, a chuckle escaping him, “we were lucky we got a day.”

“Let the world think we’re married. It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought that.”

Coming to peace with the situation, Daniel pressed a kiss under her chin. The two stayed in each other’s embrace, waiting of the kettle to whistle.

They’ll tackle the world in the morning. The press, the phone calls, the emails, the text messages. All of it could wait.

Tonight, they wanted to simply be with each other and nowhere else.


	2. FEBRUARY 2014 to APRIL 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of Cancer and Breast Cancer.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later; enjoy! :D

**_FEBRUARY 2014 to APRIL 2015_**

Over the years Betty and Daniel discovered it was easier to hide matters from their families when they were a five hours behind time zone wise and a good eight hour flight away.

They often used the distance to their advantage for surprise visits—Thanksgiving 2012 was one to remember, the first holiday and Thanksgiving they spent together as a Suarez-Meade clan, including everyone on both sides, Alexis and DJ convinced to go along as well. Or when they surprised Justin for his final high school theatre performance, the couple acting as though they couldn’t get the time off before showing up on opening night.

Their families were the same—Hilda keeping her pregnancy a secret until late into her third trimester, showing the surprised bump over video chat no less. Or how DJ broke his arm attempting a new trick on his bike; Alexis purposefully kept the boy’s right arm out of the camera angles for four months until it had healed properly for all to see.

With the distance, and their respective ridiculous families’ history, no one wanted to worry anyone. Needless worry was never good.

Which is why when a lump was found in Betty’s breast, they decided to keep it to themselves.

She had several doctor’s appointments lined up within the following weeks, including a biopsy and MRI. After refreshing herself on the information, she knew the treatments and procedures for breast cancer like the back of her hand. She even had a list of questions about each one, along with her options based on severity of the potential cancerous lump.

This shouldn’t have surprised Daniel; her mother had breast cancer, and Betty being Betty, had always been the knowledgeable caretaker in her family. She never went into any situation unprepared.

However he expected her to get at least a little frazzled. Maybe on edge. Cry a little when thought no one was watching.

Miraculously, she remained calm through it all. “Daniel, I’m not worrying. For all I know, it can be nothing.” She shrugged, stirring the boiling pasta. They were finishing up dinner, planning on a relaxing evening in for the Friday night. Both had too much on their mind to entertain the thought of going out, or to put forth the effort in distracting themselves.

Down the other side of the counter, Daniel chopped the mushrooms with little finesse—a sad fact considering he and Betty took a cooking class together years early. An endeavor prior to their relationship, prior to well…almost everything. He’d still been in his slump following the Sofia Reyes’ break-up. Betty had been more than a little appalled by the amount of take-out shoved in his refrigerator and laying about in his loft, she took it upon herself to make sure Daniel had a basic life skill of cooking.

He did better than he thought he would, a miracle.

“But it runs in your family,” Daniel kept his eyes on his task; better to be focused than dive head first into the conversation, “the chances are higher—”

“I know,” she edged out, a grit to her words, “but I’m not thinking about that. I am thinking about the fact it was one lump, it can be easily removed and if it is cancerous, my procedure and treatments won’t be extensive.”

A dry lump formed in his throat every single time the words ‘cancerous’ and ‘treatment’ were thrown around.

Small, gentle hands wrapped around his wrists, urging him to set the knife down.

“Hey,” came her cautious, soothing tone—one he associated with so many memories of her comforting him, assuring him. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one to comfort her in this situation? He wasn’t the one with a potentially life altering illness. “I know this is a lot considering…” Her lips bit together, half of her wanting to say _her_ name, the other half refraining. The other half won. “But I promise you it is not the same."

A shaky inhale coursed through him. The knife was no longer in his grasp, instead her warm hands in his. Soft, firm, and steady. He didn’t want to think of them as shaky and weak, or pale and frail—at least not so soon. Not when she was still young. They were suppose to have time; they had to have time. “Don’t make that promise. You can’t keep that promise. You know you can’t keep that promise.”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but faded away. “I know I can’t, but I need you to be…positive. Please. I need it.” She swallowed tightly, the sad yet reassuring smile returning in full force. “I _really_ need it.”

Her hands squeezed his. An aggressive, begging grip.

And then he remember this was _Betty_.

Betty who achieved anything she set her mind to. His Betty who was a fighter, knew how to carry herself in the face of adversary, and smiled despite the odds.

His arms pulled her into his chest, arms wrapping around her. Her weight against his chest anchored his thoughts. “You always have me.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, brushing away flopping and mused waves to their proper place.

A small sniffle came from below him.

He held her tighter.

He had a feeling she hadn’t had a good cry yet.

* * *

After tests the answers came back—she had breast cancer.

Caught early. They planned to immediately start treatment and scheduled chemotherapy with plans to for lumpectomy in the future. Still Betty wasn’t too panicked, both relieved the cancer was caught early.

She’d be fine. She had to be fine.

Daniel wanted to go with her to chemo—sit with her, be there for her, give anything she needed—except Betty waved him off.

“You can come along, but you don’t need to sit with me the entire time,” she added with an eyeroll. “I know how these things go. It can get boring.”

He didn’t leave at all during the first round. Or the second. Or third. He tried to talk to her about anything and everything, hoping to keep her mind off the situation. How the tube always lagged, or how his assistant at his new job (He recently became an editor for start-up digital book publishing company, an odd transition from the outside looking in, but one he enjoyed.) had been trying her best, but the poor thing seemed overwhelmed, he often handing off copy editing work to her. She had a degree in Literature, he just assumed she desired to work for the publishing company to get her foot in the door.

Of course Betty had to remind him that not every assistant was ‘Betty’ or an ‘Amanda’ or even a ‘Marc’. Some people just wanted to be afloat and keep a decent job, no career climbing involved.

Each time he began to ramble, she listened patiently, however the exhaustion in her eyes—from him not the chemo; he could tell it was from him—told him she was doing so on his behalf. Perhaps not wanting to hurt his feelings; Betty was like that, thinking of her anxious wreck of a partner before herself, when she was the one receiving a medical procedure.

But by the time the fourth session rolled around, she was already getting a little aggravated with him. He could tell.

Daniel smothered. He didn’t want to admit it. But when Christina came for a visit (one of their few friends who knew of Betty’s condition, and one who was just a short tube ride away) and noticed the tension between the two, she insisted she could sit with Betty for chemo.

“Go off and get some coffee and go to the waiting room,” Christina shooed him, beaded bracelets jangling with a wave and shove. “Get some work done while ya at it. Those unpublished books won’t edit themselves, damn it.”

Christina didn’t need to tell him twice; he had a strong fear of the woman despite knowing she had a kind spirit. He fully believed Christina was capable of world domination if she set her mind to it, except she chose to be fashion designer. Which in the world of fashion, was basically the same thing.

Giving Betty one more kiss and assurance he’d be back in an half hour, he left the two women be. Their hushed whispers and chuckles sounded off before he even reached the door.

Taking Christina’s word, Daniel went off and bought himself a cup of coffee before making camp in the waiting area off the cancer wing of the hospital. He quickly discovered Wednesday mornings were the slowest in the wing, a few lingering people here and there, but all in earnest waiting for their family or friends as they attended appointments or treatments.

No one paid no mind to him. Just as he wanted. Or as he assumed he wanted.

Pulling his glasses out of his breast pocket—he really was becoming an old man wasn’t he?—Daniel forced himself to refocus his attention to his work. Reaching into his briefcase, he pulled out a hardcopy from his latest client. A YA book series, the author inherited from his predecessor. And while Daniel wasn’t a fan of the high marketed dystopian series, he gave it his best effort. He knew what sold story wise, enough high profile actors and directors crossing his path at MODE.

Just as he began marking notes, the chair beside him creaked with weight.

Looking up from the page—the main character was attempting to make a fire to keep them warm on desolate zombie-apocalyptic streets—Daniel found an elderly man sitting beside him. A page-boy hat sat on his head, frail white hairs peaking out from the side and a brownish tweed jacket adorning his frame. He reminded Daniel of professors he encountered in college, though never had the gall or desire to interact with in the slightest.

His coke bottle glasses sat precariously on his nose, he sparing a glance at Daniel, as though feeling his stare.

“Your wife kick you out of chemo too?”

Daniel opened his mouth to correct him, but refrained. He and Betty were practically married except for the piece of paper declaring it such. For all their years together, Betty had never been out right called his wife for the majority of their relationship, only for the occasional slip to get him into doctor’s offices or for upgrading a ticket on a plane; most knew him as the boyfriend who moved to London for her thanks to Amanda’s mass following on Twitter. Daniel found he liked the idea.

He liked the idea of calling Betty his wife. For a stranger to believe he too was a husband put out in the waiting room.

It felt oddly nice, in a weird way.

“Yeah,” Daniel breathed. He set his red pen down. “I think I was hovering too much. She gets anxious when I overdo it. ”

The man chuckled, raspy and full. “I’ve been there, mate. This is not my first go. Wife was in remission and the damn thing came back.” He shook his head, a tiredness etched on his face. Then in an instant it washed away, he glancing back at Daniel with curiosity. “I’ve seen you around in there.” He jutted his thumb to the room where patients were receiving chemo, where chairs spread about for an illusion of privacy. “Been wondering who the Americans were. My wife’s been wanting to chat with you two—wants to see where ya from. See she’s from the States as well, hasn’t been back there in years, not since her family had passed.”

“Oh,” Daniel hummed, a sense of pity filling him at their loss, but answered the man’s roundabout inquiry. “My wife and I are from New York. Queens and Manhattan. And yours?”

“My Lucia is from California,” the man answered, a tender smile on his lips. “We met while I was doing work in the States some odd forty years ago. Never looked back.” He grinned. “She’s my best friend.”

“I can say the same for Betty,” Daniel said lightly, closing his hardcopy. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting any work done. “We were friends before we became something more. I honestly wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for her.”

The man softened at Daniel’s confession, nodding along as he sat further back in his chair. “I understand, son. Lucia keeps my head on straight, even when she curses me out in Spanish—more so when does that,” he chuckled, tapping his fingers idly on the armrest. His gaze squinted, eyeing Daniel with acute observation. “You aren’t like the other spouses here. They’re have a certain air about them…but you—you got that hope, love, and sadness I know all too well.”

Daniel considered the man—aged, looking for company, kind eyes. The man’s profuse love for his wife and wistful wisdom reminded him of Ignacio.

He just wanted a conversation.

“I guess you can also say this not my first go,” he relented. “My first wife had cancer.”

“Ah,” the man hummed, pity ebbing off of him.

“Yeah.” A familiar dull ache settled in his chest, one he associated with his loss of Molly. He’d always possess a love for her; she was his light for ever how fleeting it may have been. She helped him mature, see there was more to life than work and flings. She taught him what it meant to live life to the fullest; a task easier said than done, but she did it. And did it well. He’d always be thankful for the moments they shared, the few months they had together. Though her he learned to appreciate the people in his life, far more than he ever thought he’d be capable. “She passed a few years back. The cancer came back and we decided to get married, because why not? Betty was actually the one who push me to do.” He chuckled a little, remembering the decision fondly. “After the treatments she went through the first go around, she didn’t want to do it again. She was tired. Tired of fighting and just wanted to rest and enjoy life.” A sad smile formed on his lips. “But I didn’t know her when she was first diagnosed. I only knew her when she’d been in remission. I never…” He glanced around the waiting room, a weight teetering above his gut. “I never went through this with her—the chemo, the treatments, the waiting. I only saw the aftermath. The end, really.” His arms crossed over his chest, hoping to release the tension coiling within him. Somehow it made the situation worse. “I never thought…I never thought I’d have to. Then _Betty_ —”

His voice caught.

_This wasn’t supposed to happen to Betty._

He swallowed.

“I never in a million years thought I’d go through this with Betty. I mean, we both knew logically she was at risk.” She always went for her annual check-up; when she lived back in Queens, she and Hilda would make a day of it. Go for their check-ups, go out to eat, spend time together. She was always fine. Until now, that is. “We just never thought it to be a possibility. She’s always been healthy. Even takes gummi vitamins,” he added, unable to help his smile. “If anyone in our relationship was going to end up in the hospital, it would be me.” He paused, a few instances coming to mind. “Actually, now that I think about it, I have been in the hospital the most out of the two of us.”

“You sure do know how to pick ‘em,” his companion muttered, an exhausted sigh escaping him. “But if anything, your heart and spirit is prepared at least a little for what is to come. Even the fiercest of women need a strong rock through this. We all do.”

“I guess you have a point,” Daniel muttered, trying to see the positive. “My first thought when she told me was ‘Oh God, not her too.’” He winced. “I don’t know if I can be that strong rock. I was too hopeful with Molly.”

“Nothing wrong with hope,” the man countered. “Sometimes hope is the only thing to soothe the pain.”

Daniel found he couldn’t argue.

He held out his hand for a shake. “Daniel Meade.”

The man returned it with a firm shake of his own. “Charles Bennet.”

* * *

A routine soon emerged over the next few months. When Betty would go to her chemo session, Christina would tag along to women happy to chat about anything and everything, while Daniel—even though Betty told him enough times he didn’t have to leave work to just sit in the waiting room while Christina kept her company—sat in the waiting room.

In the fluorescent light of the waiting room, Daniel and Charles would have coffee together and talk about life. Within two sessions both discovered they had far more in common than they initially believed.

When he’d been younger, Charles worked as an editor for Hubble Communications, working his way up through _Town Living_ until he became a managing editor. He witnessed the publishing world through young and ambitious eyes, the thwart it experienced after World War II when he was a child and the boom it breezed through during the tail end of the 20th century. He loved his life in California, missed Los Angeles, and enjoyed the adrenaline of the publishing world. It was nothing like London, or the country side where he grew up in the UK.

“Then I left it all,” he hummed, a small grin forming on his lips, “I was forty-five, at the peak of my career and then I just upped and left.”

“Why?” Daniel sipped his coffee, perhaps already knowing why.

“I met Lucia.” Charles shrugged a little. “She worked in the legal department as a copy editor with plans to move here and attend postgraduate university. Far too smart for some bloke like me, but for some reason she decided to take a chance.”

Daniel felt himself smile at Charles implications. “So she got into the program?”

“Yes,” Charles nodded once, “I proposed, we got married at the court house, and moved here all within two weeks.”

“Wow,” Daniel breathed, “you meant business.”

“You cannot let them get away. Especially ones like my Lucia and your Betty.”

A rush of emotions from that night came crashing over him. When he decided to resign and give MODE to Wilhelmina, sending off his final Letter from the Editor, packing up a suitcase and carryon and hopping on to the first plane to London.

Looking back, his friends and family must have though he was insane.

Hilda told him as much when he went begging to her door, asking if she had any idea of where Betty’s office was located London. It took some digging into printed off emails and double checking with Google. For once he’d been relieved Betty overprepared and made sure there was at least copy of her new work address for her family somewhere.

However he ignored her chattering, most of her words scolding him for leaving her sister hanging.

_“You’re her best friend. She’s never had a friend like you and you had to be a dufus! Not even saying goodbye? If it weren’t for the fact Betty would kill me for doing it, you would meet this fist,” she motioned to her right hand, a couple of rings adorning her fingers, “and all that pretty boy-ness would vanish like that.” She snapped her fingers, indicating how quickly she’d destroy him if given the opportunity._

_Normally Daniel would have gulped and possibly fled. But this was different; he had to prove to Betty’s fiercest protector he was trying to make amends. “I know. I completely understand, Hilda. I’m trying to fix this—"_

_“By flying out there?” She scoffed, arms crossing over her chest. “Then you better be damn serious. None of this Needy Daniel business. She needs support out there, not someone to look after.”_

_“I know,” Daniel breathed, “I know. I want to be that support. I always want to be that support, even if it means moving my entire life there. Betty’s worth it.”_

_Hilda’s eyes widened, jaw dropping. She finally put two and two together._

_“Oh shit. You’re serious.”_

Luckily she hurried him along and handed him the email with Betty’s work address, the entire conversation forming into a blur.

Until now that is.

“Cheers to that.”

Their to-go cups clinked together, a muffled tap sounding from the paper cups. Both took a sip of their coffee, patiently waiting for their respective partners in companionable silence.

* * *

“So what do you do when you are in the waiting room?” Betty asked after her latest session. Christina hadn’t been able to make it due to a rescheduled meeting with a starlet, leaving Daniel to sit with her. Not that she minded, as he seemed to be less tense in the room or on the verge of a panic attack. He had slowly regained his cool, keeping himself together as they marched through the motions of sessions and doctor’s appointments. A massive change from the chaotic mess she feared he’d become at the news. More often than not he seemed his most confident and collected after her chemo sessions, which was…weird, to put lightly. Almost four months into chemo, she began to wonder what her boyfriend did during the hour and half to himself after he left her and Christina. “Working?”

Arms linked with hers, he nodded lightly. They been making their way to their favorite coffee shop, a tea latte usually giving her a good pick me up after her sessions. He then frowned down at her head. Reaching over, he tugged her bright turquoise knit-cap further down her head. A few weeks prior she took the plunge and chopped off most of her hair. A short, but fun, bob cut. Her dark locks barely brushed her jaw. She hadn’t had her that short in decades, not since she was a toddler and too _ansias_ to sit down and have her hair brushed.

Winter was coming and they had to make a decision, soon. To tell their family their situation, or to make up an excuse as to why they’d be spending the holidays apart.

With her current nausea and sessions, she felt staying in London was for the best. She just didn’t know how her Papi and Hilda would take it.

“I actually made a friend in the waiting room.”

Daniel confession brought Betty out of her worried thoughts.

_Did he just say he made a friend?_

Titling her head up at him, she frowned. “You made a friend? With who?”

“This guy, Charles,” Daniel’s lips up turned at the name, “his wife has chemo the same time you do, but she kicks him out because he can smother sometimes.”

Betty’s eyebrows shot up. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Right?” She was relieved to see him brighten at the tease. “And get this—he use to work in publishing. Hubble Communications in California back in the seventies and eighties.” She knew about Hubble, most of the magazine headquarters residing on the West Coast. At one point she considered interviewing with the conglomerate publishing company, but instead resisted the urge. Hubble was a direct competitor with Meade Publications; she wanted to venture to new ground, but not burn the bridges she built. “He was a creative director and left it all for his wife. Came back to the UK for her career.”

Her brows furrowed. “That sounds awfully familiar.” Eerily so. “Are you sure you aren’t making this up?”

Daniel deflated at her accusation. “No. Of course not. He is a real guy I met in the waiting room.”

“Then what is his wife’s name?”

“Lucia Francesca Bennet.”

“She’s Latina too?” She could not help the giggles spilling out of her. She didn’t care if her side would hurt, or she’d fall asleep early due to exerting herself. Daniel’s story was getting more and more absurd. “I hate to break it to you but I haven’t met anyone named Lucia during my sessions. And Christina makes an effort to talk to everyone, especially the lonely ones.”

“What are you talking about?” Daniel uttered as they rounded the corner to the coffee shop. “I have seen him every single time we’ve gone.”

Betty shrugged, a sense dread filling her as her boyfriend’s expression became more troubled. “I’m telling you the truth. There’s only about four of us there most of the time; ones a teen, the other two are guys. There isn’t a Lucia.”

He opened the door for her, but his mind was lost elsewhere.

Sighing, Betty threaded her fingers though his and marched up to the counter, ordering their usual drinks.

Maybe all of this was too much for Daniel; by the sound of it he was either befriending a con or hallucinating.

Terrible to say, but she was hoping it was a hallucination. She didn’t want to have a Community of the Phoenix situation on her hands again.

* * *

When Daniel came to sit in the waiting area the next session, he found Charles already waiting for him, two cups of coffee in his hands.

He held one out to Daniel. “Did you and your Betty figure out what you’ll do for the holidays?”

Right, Charles knew about his and Betty’s dilemma about the holidays. He was hoping the man would offer sage advice on the matter, but all he said was he wasn’t ever close to his family and Lucia never wanted her family to see her sick.

Being polite, Daniel accepted the drink, yet he did not sit down in his usual spot. “Where is Lucia?” he asked, quiet and not pressing. He didn’t want to scare the man away; after all, he was one of the few people he could speak to about Betty’s condition. He never really had that before.

“In chemo, like I told you,” Charles nodded to the room. “She kicks me out.” He spoke in earnest, but there was a quiver to his words.

Daniel hummed, deciding to take a seat. “I uh, talked to Betty about Lucia.” He inhaled sharply, hoping his nerves would calm down for just two seconds so he could get to the bottom of this. “She said…she said there isn’t a ‘Lucia’ in her sessions.”

He wasn’t too sure what he expected when he ripped off the band aid, but it wasn’t _this_.

This being Charles sighing, eyes closed as he tipped his head down. Pain etched on his face before he smothered the all too revealing expression away. He lifted his head and blinked. “I…I was wondering when you’d figure it out. I suppose I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

He didn’t have to say it, Daniel already knew. “Is Lucia gone?”

Charles nodded, swallowing tightly. “She did have chemo at this time. And she did want to talk to you two, saw you two on your first session. Never had the nerve though; far too polite for her own good.” A watery chuckle bubbled though him. Without hesitation, Daniel offered his handkerchief. “But she got worse and…and she passed.”

Daniel’s heart went heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, knowing how little the words meant. They’d been uttered to him enough times over the last ten years. “I am truly. I know…I know it must be difficult.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Charles assured him, not exactly acknowledging Daniel’s condolence. “It just happened. I came here to drop off a treat for the nurses; they’d been so kind to my Lucia all these years. It was the right thing to do. But then I saw you here and I remembered Lucia wanting to get to know the American couple and…” He shook his head a little. “I remember being no older than you when this happened to us the first go. I was scared shitless. Thought maybe I could offer some ease. It’s hard to be the rock.”

Daniel’s shoulders relaxed; the truth revealed genuine intentions, a lie unintentional. He looked down at his coffee, hoping he could find the right words to say. “I…I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” If the situation were reversed, he wasn’t sure if he’d react the same. Days after losing Molly he probably wouldn’t have been looking to take an inch of the burden off of others. He was a wreck, a moron dredged in grief who joined a cult. Anyone was lucky to get a half decent conversation out of him at the time.

It was Betty who had to wrangle some sense back into him.

However if this were him and Betty…

She’d want him to comfort others how she would have comforted others. She would want him to bring gifts to the nurses. She’d want him to talk about their time together fondly—the good memories, not the bad ones. Offer hope in the time of hopelessness, even if things did not turn out the way they expected.

Thinking about it now…Molly would want the same thing too.

“It means a lot to me that you took the time to sit with me and talk,” Daniel said, finding he meant every word, “because you’re right. It’s hard being the rock, especially when you aren’t used to being in that position.”

“Preaching to the choir, my boy,” Charles muttered, giving him a sad smile.

“Would you like to meet Betty?”

Charles hesitated.

“Not today or the next session, but when you feel ready?” Daniel asked. “Because I’m positive she’d love to meet you. Her heart is always looking for more people to care for.”

His companioned hummed, a small glisten in his eyes. Unshed tears remained at bay, skillfully kept in place. “Perhaps. But just promise me this—let that girl see her family. You said you two weren’t sure to go back home for the holidays, to let everyone know.” Daniel nodded, the conversation stretching over a few sessions. They feared how everyone would react; Betty didn’t want to cause unnecessary worry for her Papi and Hilda, and Daniel didn’t want his mother barging in and interfering. While things weren’t spectacular, Daniel and Betty were fine; their relationship was stronger than ever during this time and were keeping on track with her treatment plan…but that didn’t mean guilt found its way into their hearts from time to time. “Bring them here. Let them in. It is the one thing I wished I did when my Lucia was first ill. Women like my Lucia and your Betty, their family is their _corazon,_ ” he patted his chest, hand right over his heart, “they need their family to get better.”

The thought of their family, both his and hers, in their apartment sent anxiety through Daniel.

But then it washed away with warmth…

Mr. Suarez would take over the kitchen, recruiting his mother and Tyler, and whoever else he could get his hand on to help with dinner. Justin would offer a helping hand, but slip away before any of the real work would get done, and end up slightly rearranging the décor in the living room. Bobby, DJ, and Alexis would commander the boardgames and get into competitive sprees with each other, and let little baby Isabella play along like she knew all the rules. Hilda would fuss over Betty, the sisters huffing and puffing, but holding and hugging each other the next minute.

They’d all be together, and Betty…

Betty would be so happy.

“I think you might have point.” Daniel hummed to himself, falling deep in thought. He’d have to buy tickets that evening, make sure everyone would be up for it. He highly doubted they would be otherwise. “She’s always been close to her family, but I never thought how all of this could be affecting her beyond her worry.”

“Because you’re think about your own worries,” Charles countered, “learn how to enjoy life despite this season.”

“I think I will.”

* * *

“Oh, son,” Claire’s sigh echoed through the receiver, warm and sad. Daniel was relieved he decided to call her rather than chat with her via Skype. Through her tone alone, he could picture her expression—stunned, overwhelmed, depressed. He wasn’t too sure he could handle her in such away, or else he’d break and wish he had his mother in person so she could wrap him up in her arms and promise everything would be okay. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I could have called some people, see about getting her the best help.”

He knew this would happen. In Claire’s eyes, Betty was her daughter. One she wanted to protect how ever she could. “We like the doctor and help we are getting. She’s the best in the area, Betty’s chemo is going well and the schedule for the surgery is still on track. She doing better than her doctors thought she would.”

“Of course she is! She’s Betty; she’s our fighter,” came his mother’s stubborn pride. “So let me guess, the excuse you two had work over the holidays…?”

“An excuse,” Daniel stated, feeling the dormant guilt creep back into him. “She’s taken on another assistant and is only in the office for half the week. Believe it or not she is taking the precautions to heart and is not overexerting herself.”

“Good. Good.”

“But yeah…the work thing was an excuse,” Daniel conceded, kicking over a stray leaf in his path. He hadn’t wanted to leave Betty alone at the apartment on a Saturday, but he knew she’d try to intercept his attempts if she knew exactly what he was doing. So the park a block away was the next best options, using the excuse he left an important file in the office and would be back in a couple of hours. She bought it easily, nose deep into article drafts from her features section.

“We all figured.”

His feet stopped, a gust of wind stroking by with ferocity. “What?”

“Please, son. You think we only all talk when we are all together on Sunday?” His mother didn’t wait for a response. “The excuse of work was flimsy at best. You and Betty have figured out the holidays months in advance these last few years, and when we didn’t get our annual email about holiday plans in October and then a couple of weeks later were told you two were planning on staying in London for work, we knew something had to have happened.”

Running a hand through his hair, Daniel made his way over to the next available bench and sat down. He thought he and Betty were in the clear. Sure they may have disappointed their family, but he hadn’t thought they all saw through the stretched little white lie.

“Like what?”

“Well…” Claire drawled, no doubt preparing for her morning coffee. It was barely half past seven in New York. “Alexis believes you two had a fight about something and decided to take a break for the holiday season and were just keeping appearances these last few weeks.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “Hilda believes that something was about marriage.” So both of their sisters thought his and Betty’s relationship was on the rocks. Great. “Bobby has no opinion, which upset Hilda. Justin thinks you two just want to spend a the holidays by yourself to make it ‘romantic’ since you two probably haven’t spent enough time together this year due to work. DJ and Tyler agreed.” At least the nephews and long lost brother seemed to be rooting for them no matter what. “Marc thinks you two fell into your workaholic tendencies and are actually working, and Amanda thinks Betty might be pregnant, hence her lack of appearance these last few months and tiredness when she is on camera. Marc then changed his opinion and seconded that notion.”

Daniel wanted to bang his head on the ground; of course their family was gossiping about them behind their back. He shouldn’t have expected less.

But there was one opinion he hadn’t heard, and arguably matter the most.

“And Ignacio?”

“He…” A shakiness absorbed her tone. “He has his theories. Doesn’t voice them to everyone, but he has them.”

“Which are?”

“Daniel,” she began, “he watched his own wife die from cancer. I think he’d notice if his daughter was going through the same.”

His eyes screwed shut. They were stupid to think they’d be able to get this by Ignacio.

“I think you should call him. Right now. Tell him the truth. Then pay for everyone’s flight and lodging in London.”

“Was already planning on it.”

* * *

Ignacio did not cry over the phone. And if he did, well Daniel could not tell.

But he did mutter occasionally in Spanish, barely caught on the line.

Spanish wasn’t Daniel’s strong suit, but miraculously he was better than Betty, much to her chagrin. He spent months listening to Rosetta Stone when they planned a short summer trip to Mexico to visit some of her extended family.

He didn’t want to be as Ignacio put, ‘The _gringo_ boyfriend who didn’t know a lick of Spanish’. Betty was already taunted by her distant cousins for not speaking fluently, so he had to try his best.

But that did not help his when Ignacio muttered, and Daniel only caught the word ‘ _mjia_ ’.

“Why would she keep this from me? Why didn’t she tell me herself?” finally came his questions, Ignacio not beating around the bush.

“You know Betty,” Daniel said with a tired sigh. “She doesn’t want anyone to worry. Especially you.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, preparing himself for the Suarez patriarch’s potentially negative response as he spoke. He knew Ignacio would not take the next few words well. “In fact, she doesn’t know I’m doing this. Calling you. Telling you. She doesn’t like to be fussed over.”

“Ay, _mija_ ,” Ignacio bemoaned. “This is an acceptable reason to be fussed over. And she knows it too.” Shuffling and clattering was heard, followed by the clicking of the stove. “So what is the plan, boss? You tell me and…?”

“Well, as you probably already know, Betty and I are not working over the holidays.”

“Betty loves Christmas—she’d never work on Christmas unless…” He stopped himself. They both knew the _unless_.

Unless she was working for him, and he asked her stay. But that was years ago; they hadn’t worked together in years, except for his short summer stint as her assistant five years prior while she was looking for someone more permanent in the position.

“We want you—everyone—to come here for Christmas. I’ll take care of the flights and lodging,” Daniel hurriedly explained, sparing a glance at his watch. He only had about a half hour left before Betty started to become curious as to where he ran off to. “It’ll be a surprise.”

“ _Mijo_ , I know you mean well, but are sure she would want this?”

Betty would be upset. Daniel knew this the moment the idea formed in his mind.

She would pull him aside and let him have it. Tell him it was her illness to share, not his. How they made these decisions together, not apart. Give him judge-y butterfly glares. Argue how she had every right to know his plans, because it was their family—not just his, not just hers. Maybe even give him the silent treatment for the remainder of their family’s visit.

But it felt worth it.

“I don’t know. But I’d rather do this than regret it later.”

“Alright. If you are at peace with your decision, then I am as well.”

* * *

Daniel was right.

Betty was upset.

When both their families, plus Marc and Amanda—

_“What is this I hear about you shipping yours and Betty’s family to London for the holidays?” Amanda demanded over the phone at three in the morning._

_“We are celebrating Christmas here because of some personal reasons—”_

_“Oh my god! Betty is pregnant! I knew it!”_

_“What?” Daniel hissed. Easing out of the bed, careful to not wake Betty, he made his way out of the room. “No we aren’t expecting. It’s because of something else—”_

_“Ugh! Tyler won’t tell me and I am about to seriously eat an entire sheet cake if you don’t! I legit have the fork in my hand as we speak.”_

_Pulling the phone away from his ear, Daniel winced. “Fine! Fine, uh—” He rubbed his eyes. “This cannot leave you and,” he rolled his eyes, knowing it was no use, “—and Marc. But Betty’s sick.”_

_“Like the flu?”_

_“Like breast cancer.”_

_The line went silent._

_Then—_

_“What?” A quivering voice breathed into the line. “You’re joking right? You…you can’t be serious.”_

_“Amanda…”_

_“Is she dying? Oh my god. Betty can’t die. Oh my god, Daniel!”_

_“She’s fine. Really, she is. Doing so well. Her surgery is scheduled in January,” he said rapidly, keeping his voice low. “Amanda, really—she’s going to be okay. She just didn’t want anyone to worry—”_

_“Ugh, Betty would be selfish like that.”_

_Daniel knew better than to argue when Amanda was in one of her moods. “You know her,” he settled on._

_“Then why the hell didn’t Marc and I get this London Holiday invite? He’s an honorary Suarez, and I’m like basically a Meade.”_

_“No, you’re not.” As far as Daniel knew, Tyler wasn’t anywhere near proposing._

_“Says you,” she shot back, her mouthful. She must have dug into her chocolate sheet cake. “So you going to forward me the email for my tickets, right?”_

_This was a loosing battle the moment he picked up the phone. “Yeah, sure Amanda. I’ll email you the tickets.”_

—arrived, she all but stared at the crowd standing in their foyer.

And then shut the door before anyone could come in.

She whirled to him, eyes a blazing. “What are they doing here?” Then her eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

“Um,” Daniel forced a bright smile, hoping to diminish the tension. It didn’t work. “I invited our family over for Christmas.” He shrugged, waving his hands in the air like the spirit fingers Justin once showed him. “Surprise?

All color drained from her face. “Daniel! No! Not ‘surprise’! What the hell?” she marched past him, away from the door. She was heading straight towards the bedroom, prepared to lock herself up and away.

“Betty!” He chased after her, keeping his voice low. Knowing the Suarez’ and Meade’s, they’d be listening through the door with sharp ears. “Come on—”

“No,” she exhaled. “I didn’t want them around. That’s why we’re here. They can’t see me like _this_ , Daniel.” She waved to herself. Exhausted. Perpetual bags under her eyes. Hair cropped short, looking more like a funky pixie cut than a bob is had been a mere few weeks prior. “I look like I am on the verge of a breakdown! I can’t host—”

“No one is saying you have to host!”

“Of course I’m hosting! It’s my flat!”

“It’s our flat,” Daniel corrected without second thought. They split the rent—it was just as much hers as it was his.

Her lips pursed together, arms crossed over her chest as she stared him down. She knew he was right

“I’ll be the host. I’ll take care of everything. You just need to sit down and enjoy being with your family.” He inched closer to her, resting two hands on her shoulders. Like gravity, she eased herself into his arms. “You don’t need to worry about a thing,” his words brushed her hair, he patting down the little Alfalfa hair on the back of her head. “They all miss you. I think it will do us all good to spend some quality time together.”

She nodded against his shoulder, a small sniffle following. “Okay.”

Pulling away, Daniel wiped the tears on her cheeks with his thumb and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, let’s go retry that hello.”

Together they made their way back to the foyer, and opened the door and let their family in.

* * *

“It was nice,” Daniel confessed, nursing his cooling latte. “Better than I think any of us anticipated.” More than better. A forgotten warmth found its way back into Betty’s eyes. She laughed and cried and hugged everyone with all her might.

And like he imagined, everyone found their place in the two bedroom flat. Ignacio in the kitchen working with what the local shop had to offer and the spices he smuggled on the plane, Claire and her youngest boy helping him in the kitchen. Amanda and Hilda raided their restroom, determined to help Betty find better ways to fashion her newly acquired short hair, and rummaged through their hats and scarfs for alternatives. Alexis had found herself becoming the designated child wrangler, Isabella attached to her like glue. Justin and Marc subtly rearranged the Christmas decorations, and a few the bookshelves’ knick-knacks, both unable to help themselves. Meanwhile DJ attempted to explain the various football teams playing that evening to Bobby, he getting a crash course on European sports.

And Daniel found himself becoming the runner and host. Stashing all the luggage away in the extra room, running to the shop down the street for any extra supplies Ignacio needed for dinner, and making sure Betty took her pills and drank plenty of water.

He found it was even better than he imagined.

Charles hummed, relief in his eyes. “That’s good.”

“I just didn’t expect everyone to insist on spending the entirety of Christmas Eve night there.”

The unofficial plan was to let everyone check in to their Airbnb through out the rest of the day as check-in times rolled around. But as the day progressed, no one made a move to leave. And once the _Noche Buena_ midnight dinner rolled around, no seemed keen on making a trek anywhere. So they all stayed—the women commandeered the master bedroom, Betty amongst them, along with a inflatable bed they had stashed away from other visits all of them giggling and laughing late into the night like it was slumber party. The men then found themselves spread out amongst the remainder of the flat, Ignacio and Justin taking the bed in the guestroom while Bobby, Marc, Tyler, DJ and Daniel stuck it out in the living room. Naturally, Marc took the couch (no one bothered to suggest the floor to him) while DJ curled up on the loveseat, out like a light before anyone could utter a goodnight.

_“Just like camp!” Bobby joked, layering a couple of blankets and a pillow on the floor. “Except no poison ivy.”_

_“I remember camping,” Tyler mumbled, fluffing out a pillow stolen from the couch. He tucked it under his head, and stared up at the ceiling. “It was fun. I should probably do it more often.” He glanced at Marc. “Do you think Amanda would be up for a trip?”_

_A snort followed. “Go Glamping. She’ll be able to pick out camping inspired outfits.”_

_Sandwiched between Tyler and Bobby’s makeshift beds on the floor, Daniel hummed in agreement._

_“Aw, the old man is already falling asleep,” Bobby teased, nudging Daniel’s shoulder. “Should I draw on his face?”_

_“Bobby! Go to bed!” Hilda called out from the master bedroom. “I can hear your loud mouth from all the way over here!”_

So maybe not entirely perfect. Daniel had a crick in his neck for a week after, but perfect for them.

“But your Betty was happy, yes?”

“Yeah, she was,” Daniel answered, fiddling with the paper cup’s carboard sleeve. “By the way, thank you for meeting up with me and just talking. I know it’s been a few months since we last talked…” More like almost four. April 2015 was coming into full swing, the air a tad bit warm and rain just a little lighter. “But life got a crazy busy, with Betty’s surgeries and then our family coming to visit off and on over the last couple of months. But the good news is she’s in remission and it looks like we are almost cancer free.”

“Pft,” Charles waved off. “Don’t apologize. She’s your priority. She should always be your priority.”

“Speaking of priorities…” A flash of bright pink, yellow, and blue hurriedly passed the coffee shop window, the click of Betty’s bright Mary Jane’s against the tile signaling her arrival. She beelined passed a couple of people, sputtering out quick apologies, before plopping herself down into the open seat beside Daniel.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathed out, pushing back her messy hair. The dark locks were growing back, her bob style back—but far curlier than before, her once haphazard waves more uniformed than they’d been in the past. “A meeting ran over time with our newest advertiser.” She pressed a quick kiss to Daniel’s cheek.

“I ordered for you.” He passed her the cup sitting beside his, her favorite lavender latte staring back.

“Thank you,” she smiled shyly at him, taking small sip. Her eyes slid over to Charles, a perkiness flooding back into her. “Hello! It’s so wonderful to finally meet you!”

“You as well. I’ve heard so much about you Mrs. Meade,” Charles said politely.

Betty’s brows furrowed, glancing over at Daniel. “Oh, sorry I think you mean—”

“You can call my wife, Betty,” Daniel interjected, “She doesn’t like formalities.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

‘ _Just go with it_ ,’ he mouthed, giving a small shrug.

“Yeah, ‘Betty’s fine,” she said in agreement, nudging Daniel— _hard_. For someone who was still gaining back her strength, she knew how to pack a punch. “No one _ever_ calls me Mrs. Meade.”

With the ring sitting in back of his bathroom drawer, hidden behind hair product, Daniel hoped he could one day change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now why did I choose this particular storyline? 
> 
> I am rewatching Ugly Betty for the billionth time and I realized Betty's mother died of cancer, though the specifics were never disclosed (unless I missed it or forgot, then forgive me please). All I could think about was if Betty had a cancer scare or even was diagnosed, Daniel would feel like history was repeating himself for him. He'd think more about Molly and also be faced with a Betty who didn't want to have anyone worry over her and would want to fix it. 
> 
> Also Hubble Communications is based off her Hearst Communications. 
> 
> **NOW BREAKING DOWN THE SPANISH WORDS AND SLANG!!!**
> 
> ansias: anxious, eager, fidgeting. Like "I would get scolded for being ansias when my mom brushed my hair"--I fidgeted too much for her to brush my hair.
> 
> mija: daughter; or any female who is younger than you. You two won't be related, but you'll still be called 'mija.' Strangers have called me mija. You are more so a daughter in the community, and honestly it is one of the highest compliments you can get.
> 
> mijo: son; same as above.
> 
> gringo: technically it means 'foreigner to the land', but most people use it to refer those to who are non-latinx, especially all the Caucasian/White boyfriends and girlfriends the abuelas, abuelos, tia, and tios dislike with a passion. Latinx's are sometimes called gringos if they are out of touch with their culture. It's not the nicest word, often an insult, but...it's used.
> 
> 'Noche Buena' is a traditional Mexican, also Latin American, Christmas Eve celebration at the end of the Posadas (a celebration of the nine days leading up to Christ's birth, from December 16th to 24th, where you basically travel to a different house every night and take 'food and shelter' usually planned amongst neighbors and family friends in symbolism of Mary and Joseph's journey) with a Mass at Midnight (if your Catholic) and massive feast afterward followed by opening presents. Everyone celebrates it a bit differently depending on how religious they are (I know my family does) but is usually also involves lots of food, a nativity scene of some sort, and lots of sweets and/or drinking. One day I might write a fic of the Suarez's celebrating Noche Buena and Posadas, since there isn't any really around and as a Chicana it would be fun to dig into :D


	3. JUNE 2013

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy :D

**_MAY 2013_ **

“Are you sure you can do this?” Alexis stood tall, arms crossed as she remained rooted in the flat’s entryway. She was dressed for travel, the first time Daniel had ever seen her in denim jeans and a sweater. A baseball cap sat on her head, no doubt a tactic to obscure her face—she didn’t need the press hounding on her on her way back to New York. She held one of DJ’s weekender bags in her arms like a lifeline, tension sitting on her shoulders, to snap at the ready. Her own luggage sitting in the trunk of her town car out on the street. “I can always take him back to his grandparents. They’d be fine to watch him for the summer.”

“I told you,” Daniel said, more than exasperated. “Betty and I can handle taking care of DJ for the summer.” He received emails, text messages, and phone calls from Alexis on the multitude for the last month. The most communication they’d ever had since his older sister’s move to France. “He’ll be fine. Plus we have all his information if anything happens and we’re not planning on leaving the country any time soon. Betty and I are going to be fine, and DJ is going to have a fun time.”

Alexis scoffed. “It’s not Betty I’m worried about. I wholeheartedly believe she can handle being the guardian of fifteen year old.” Her eyebrows raised, a hand on her hip as she stared him down. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“What?” Daniel huffed—he was hoping he calmed down his sister’s nerves over the last few weeks, not having to assure her hours before she’d board a plane that she was making the right decision. Glancing around the hall, he motioned for his sister to come in. “I don’t feel like discussing this in the corridor.”

“Corridor?” Alexis chuckled. “Assimilation I see.” Rolling her eyes, she stepped further into the flat, Daniel closing the door behind her. Betty and DJ’s chatter could be heard from further in the home, she showing him around and getting him settled in his room.

Betty was more than a little excited to have DJ around. Part of Daniel believed it was due to missing her nephew. Another part believed it was because she genuinely wanted to form a relationship with her pseudo-nephew. He and Betty had gone to visit Alexis and DJ a few times over the years, the two only a short travel away and vice versa. However their trips were only for a weekend getaway, never more than a few days, the same going for the holidays. Betty was DJ’s aunt, for all intents and purposes, even if it wasn’t official yet.

Marriage had been put on the backburner. Both were fine and adamant about the decision. She wanted to focus on her career and magazine, not planning a wedding. He was finishing up his Master’s and working as a consultant for Dunne Publishing, Lindsey Dunne looking to bridge a relationship with Meade Publishing as print became a harder boat to keep afloat. Overall, Daniel was living a nicely anonymous life for once. He liked it. Both knew if they were to get married, it wouldn’t be something simple or sweet—their family’s would want to blow it out into something larger, not to mention the press…

Waiting just seemed like the smart idea.

“Why are you so nervous about this?” Daniel asked, leading Alexis to the kitchen. He made work of pouring her tea. “You two are going to videocall every other day. Betty even made a schedule.” He nodded to the calendar posted on the refrigerator. In bright green gel pen, times for calling were written out, accommodating for time zones. “Plus, it’s not like DJ hasn’t stayed with me before.”

“Yeah, for a day or two.” She wrinkled her nose at the cup. He waited for a comment about slowly turning into a Londoner over the years, but it never came. Hesitant, she sat, and pulled the tea closer to her, yet not touching it. “But not for three months.” She sighed, eyes locked on the cooling liquid. “This will be the longest I have ever gone without seeing him, and what if…” Her voice trailed off, a flash of vulnerability falling over her. “What if…” Her teeth gritted, as though it pained her to confess even a tad of her thoughts to her brother. “What if he likes it here. With you.” She picked up her tea, holding it in front her lips but not taking a sip. “More than with me,” came her quick mumble before consuming the tea, stopping anymore words from tumbling their way out.

This was strange.

Daniel never considered, at least not at great value, his sister’s insecurities of being a parent. Of being a mother.

“I highly doubt that.” Daniel’s hand found hers, giving a small squeeze. “DJ’s your son, and he loves you. You have to know that.”

Alexis didn’t say anything, though Daniel was sure her eyes were watering _just_ the slightest. Or it could have been the reflection of the downpour outside from the window.

“I guess,” she mumbled.

Luckily, or unluckily, DJ came ambling from down the hall, clearly looking for something. “Has anyone seen my b—”

“Right here, buddy.” Alexis shrugged off the weekender bag and handed it off to her son. “By the way, I made sure to put in your favorite sweater. It was in the laundry, so I made to wash it up last night and pack it. I didn’t want you to forget it.”

DJ beamed, a sadness edging into the corners of his smile. In a rush, he plowed his mother into a bone crushing hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I’m going to miss you,” DJ mumbled, head tucked down into Alexis’ shoulder.

Daniel took it as his cue to leave; better to leave the mother and son and allow them to have a moment together.

Walking down the hall, he made his way to the guest room. What was once a room hardly touched, except for the occasional visit from a friend or two, or a family member, had been turned upside down in a matter of minutes. Wardrobe doors open wide, clothes were partial hung, while two suitcases were thrown open on the floor, overflowing with clothes. Books, a bag of nuts and bolts and tools for a skateboard, and laptop were all stacked into one corner of the room, close to the writing desk. A blanket that had not been there before was crumpled by the foot of the bed.

“I forgot teenagers can be a whirlwind,” Betty said with a small chuckle. She was sitting on the edge of bed, starting to fold some of the crumpled t-shirts that had been shoved into a suitcase. “And clearly he got the excessive clothes habit from your side of the family,” she added.

Smiling at her little jab, Daniel took a seat beside her, reaching to help somewhat organize the mess DJ had made in his excitement. When he arrived, the boy barreled into the flat, dragging along his luggage and speaking in _fast-fast-fast_ French. They hadn’t expected him to be such a ball of energy—teenagers usually became moody and disgruntled, especially at fifteen. Daniel remembered being a moody mess of a fifteen year old. Playing loud music, hiding in his room, going off and not coming back until the dead of the night.

A sudden terror wrapped around his chest.

Was DJ going to be like that? All summer?

“He told me he’s excited to see more of London with us,” Betty shrugged, completely unaware of Daniel’s quiet panic. “I guess he and Alexis never really went sightseeing when they’d visit. And I think he also said he can’t wait to see what we do for work—but that was in French and my understanding of French is…” she trailed off, cringing.

Daniel couldn’t help but snort. Whenever they visited Alexis, Betty was the one who insisted they try to speak the ‘language of the land’ to fully ‘immerse themselves in the culture.’ On most occasions it ended with Betty mixing up words and the Parisian thoroughly confused, before confessing they spoke English.

“Oh no,” she said, finally getting a good look at him, “you have that face.”

“What face?” Daniel muttered, focused more on folding a pair of sweatpants than his girlfriends all too penetrating gaze. “I don’t have a face, but this normal face.”

“You have _that_ face,” she insisted, her task long forgotten. She turned to face him, eyes stern, daring him to contradict her. “The silent panic face. What are you freaking out about?”

“I…” Alexis words came charging to his mind. “Do you think we can handle a teenager? Even if it is for three months.”

Betty blinked at him, not seeing the problem. “Of course we can. You’re over thinking this.” She resumed her folding. A few t-shirts had been stacked off to her left, she adding to the pile. “You’re making it sound like this going to destroy our lives,” she shook her head, dropping her voice lower, “DJ’s a good kid. Alexis only sings his praises and he’s been wanting to hang out with you forever. I don’t think we are going to have any problems.” Her hand rested on his forearm; her warmth eased his unnecessary worry away. “And you volunteered us, so no backing out. Only following through.”

Daniel realized he couldn’t argue with her logic; he did suggest DJ stay with them.

He and Alexis were _supposed_ to be taking turns on helping their mother (and surprise of events, _Tyler_ ) with the business since both Meade children happened to live out of the country. With some legal shifting, the company share-hold was divided into fours for Daniel, Alexis, their mother, and disgruntled Wilhelmina who still owned more than enough of the business. The plan, once Daniel’s residence in London became more permanent, was to trade off going to New York in the summers, almost like their own mini family business summit. They’d go over yearly plans, budget cuts, new initiatives. The other, whether it be Daniel or Alexis, would attend certain meetings via videocall. Simple and easy, and it wouldn’t repeatedly take either away from their lives in London and Paris.

Alexis agreed, bringing along DJ for the trip, and went the first summer as Daniel was still settling into his flat.

Then Daniel went the next. And then the next.

And when his sister asked about his impending New York trip during his spring break visit, he knew what Alexis was doing. He wasn’t a goddamn idiot.

“I have DJ to think about, Danny,” she argued. “I don’t like New York for him. The press tries to get into our business there.”

“Then let him stay with Betty and I in London. You cannot avoid going to the New York offices and leave it all on me.”

She was hesitant, but Betty convinced her.

(Spread sheets, PowerPoint, calendars, well executed speech all put together in less than an hour.)

But it was still Daniel’s suggestion. Betty wasn’t wrong there.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I have to follow through. I cannot let myself think he’s like me.”

Betty’s smile faltered for a half second, before resuming its usual exuberance. “I think he’s a lot like you—but the good parts.”

“I have _bad_ parts?” he asked, a smug smile emerging. “I thought I was _all_ good parts. At least that’s what you were saying—”

She swatted him with a t-shirt, shutting him up.

“Daniel! Betty!” Alexis’ voice called out. “I need to get going.”

They two made their way out of the guest room, now DJ’s room, to the mother and son saying their final goodbyes.

“Now you call if anything happens,” Alexis told her son, perhaps for a dozenth time. “I’ll hop on the next plane to get here, okay?”

DJ nodded, stepping back from his and his mother’s embrace. She brushed his moppy ashy brown hair from his face, a fraction of regret in her eyes.

“We’ll take good care of him,” Daniel assured Alexis, resting a hand on DJ’s shoulder. It was strange to be near eye to eye with his nephew, the boy still growing. He’d probably reach Alexis’ height within a few months. “I promise.”

“And I’ll send you weekly updates,” Betty added, before remembering this was _Alexis_. She liked Betty, always had—but she wasn’t like Daniel, who need reminders and assurances when nervous. “If you want, of course. Don’t want to overdo it.”

Despite her previous reactions towards Betty’s diligence, Alexis seemed to relax at the thought. “Actually, I think I might like that,” she gave a small shrug, “I am an avid reader of your blog. It’s the only way to ever know what this one is up to,” she nodded to Daniel, starting to edge closer to the door.

Betty brightened.

Clearing her throat, Alexis went towards the door, for once awkward. Daniel trailed after her, waiting to give a hug, but knew better than initiating with his sister. “Well, I’m leaving. I’ll call you went I land in New York,” she told him, business like. She softened, looking back at the three. “I love you guys and I’ll miss you, DJ.”

With that, she shut the door behind her, moving ahead before Daniel could offer to walk her back to the car. Part of him wanted to go after her, but he restrained himself. Better to let Alexis leave how she wants than force her into a sister-brother moment she clearly did not want.

“Well then,” Betty began, turning to face DJ at the ready to distract him, “it’s almost dinner time. Uncle Daniel and I were think we should go out to dinner for your first night here. Any food you’re craving?

The boy grinned, Daniel seeing an almost spitting image of Alex.

Maybe he was worrying over nothing. Maybe DJ really did have the good Meade qualities.

* * *

On their way to dinner DJ was happy to chat about his life in Paris, talking throughout the entire journey to the pizza parlor.

(Neither of Betty or Daniel should have been surprised a teenager wanted to have pizza for dinner. Luckily they knew a place not too far from their flat with arcade games, Daniel’s competitive streak piqued when he mention the hole-in-the-wall. As though _he_ were the teenager, not DJ.)

He talked about his mother, his grandparents, and friends, charging into story after story, his English stronger than Betty recalled. Often she remembered him as a child, nervous and timid, following after Daniel as if he hung the stars in the sky.

But now he was growing into his own person, Alexis’ inherent confidence shining through DJ in some of the most subtle ways. From how he carried himself, to how he spoke with a sureness that would take some people years to accomplished.

Then there was the fact DJ was so much like Daniel. The same hair, same laugh, same tender and vulnerable heart. From the side, they looked like father and son, no one would think otherwise.

For a fleeting moment she thought of what it’d be like to have a child with Daniel.

A child with his eyes and her hair. With her can-do personality and his kind intentions.

However she did not think too long and hard. Children weren’t on their mind at the moment.

Daniel listened with rapt attention, laughing at all the right moments and asking questions whenever finding an opportunity. He was a natural father figure, a warmth filling her chest as she listened to the two.

As soon as they entered the restaurant, the two hurried over to first available game.

“You guys! Seriously?” They were already long gone, too focused on staring a game of _Dance Dance Revolution_. She honestly should have expected this.

Sighing, she marched her way over the counter, eyeing the menu. She was unsure what to get, not exactly knowing what DJ liked and knowing Daniel would be willing to eat any pizza if there was at least pepperoni on it. There was also the fact she and Daniel had only ordered pizza from the restaurant a handful of times, the two doing their best to actually cook—neither were spectacular in the kitchen (Betty could survive…Daniel not so much) able to perform the basics, more often relying on Papi’s emailed recipes in order to make anything edible—in their flat rather than call take-out.

Humming, she considered her options, when a loud _whoop_ sounded from behind her. The few customers glanced towards the sound, a mix of annoyance and fondness etched on their faces. Glancing back around, she saw DJ cheering.

“I demand a rematch!” Daniel declared, shrugging of his jacket. “I will let you know I was trained by a professional—,”the ‘professional’ was Justin, who’d drag Daniel along to play the video game when he happened to be at the house back when they both lived in New York,“—and he believed I was great at this game.”

Justin did not believe Daniel was great at _Dance Dance Revolution_. He only said that because felt bad for how tragic the grown man could be.

Not that Betty would want to burst Daniel’s bubble.

From across the room, a smug-looking DJ agreed to a rematch. The two went back at it within moments.

“Sorry about them,” she apologized to cashier who waited patiently for her to order. “They are both a little competitive. It runs in the family,” she added with a small eyeroll. Lord knows how times Alexis and Daniel went into their own unnecessary competitions, dating all the way back when they were children.

The young woman shrugged, unbothered. “Apples don’t fall far from the tree. It happens.” She glanced over to where the two played, Daniel two steps behind the dancing on the screen. “Your husband and son are cute though.”

Betty felt the urge to correct her, but swallowed the reaction down.

Instead she smiled, glancing back over to the two. “Yeah, they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally this chapter was looooonnger. A lot longer. Like triple the length of this one and it went into detail about DJ's stay and introduce some other characters, but I held off. I might just save those for a one shot series of this universe, lol because this situation also happened for chapter one 😂
> 
> For anyone who is curious...Daniel and Betty will have a child. We haven't met the little nugget just yet, but they are written and alive! Does that mean the last chapter is a flash forward....MAYBE 😉
> 
> Anyways...
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always welcomed; love discussing the fic with readers!


	4. MAY 2009

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I may have fudged up the timeline with this chapter, I'm not too sure and I am currently toward the end of season 2 on my rebinge, but Ugly Betty would always fudge up their timelines so....IT IS WHAT IT IS.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later; enjoy! :D

**_MAY 2009_ **

****

Betty knew there was only so much one can do to cure a cold.

But she was positive Daniel was being paranoid.

“I can’t stay at my apartment,” Daniel announced when he entered Suarez residence, a weekender bag and dry cleaning slung over his shoulder.

“So it gives you every right to stay in my house?” Betty stepped back, letting him in despite every single fiber of her being telling her to just send him back home. “I told you your temperature was 98.2— _normal_ , Daniel.”

“I’ve had a cough for over a day, my nose is congested, my headache from this morning still hasn’t gone away, and my throat hurts like hell,” he listed breezily, entering the house without an ounce of hesitation. “I’m getting sick and I cannot stay at my apartment under any circumstance.”

“I’m sure it is just a cold,” Betty assured him. “It’s going around the office.”

“Or pneumonia,” Daniel shot back, the fear in his voice raising up another octave. “And if I have pneumonia, or a cold, or the flu, I cannot be around Molly under any circumstance.”

Betty sighed, scrubbing her face. It was only half past seven, but she was positive her body thought it was well past midnight. “Daniel, you having a cold is not going to get her—”

“She has a compromised immune system and I am not going to be the reason my wife’s illness gets worse.”

When he pulled that card… _damn_. Daniel Meade knew how to pull on her heartstrings.

“Why don’t you stay at a hotel or something?” she asked. Part of her felt the need to remind him he owned a portion of one of the largest publication companies in the world.

Daniel winced, nose scrunching. “I…might have told Molly I was on a busines trip in Boston.”

“Boston?” Betty raised her eyebrows; honestly he was sometimes the worst liar in existence. “Because MODE does _so much_ with Boston?”

“I didn’t know what else to say!” Daniel groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I told her it was Meade Publications business with one of our outsourced magazines. Budget cut reasons.”

“You think Boston is outsourcing?” Betty asked, though did not wait for Daniel to answer. “Why not just tell her the truth?”

“Because…maybe she thought I was little paranoid—”

“Oh _really_?” Betty taunted. “Who would have thought _that_?

“And she has access to my bank account, so if I stay at a hotel, she’ll know this wasn’t a business trip.” Honestly, he was going to unnecessary, extra lengths to prevent Molly catching a cold—one he probably didn’t have in the first place and was probably conjuring up into existence due to his paranoia.

Just as she was about to open her mouth, another voice called out from further in the house.

“ _Mija_ , who’s at the door?” her Papi called, rounding the corner of the living room to the door. “Daniel! What brings you here?”

“He was just leaving—”

“I’m sick!” Daniel blurted out, adding a cough into his elbow for an extra measure. “I think I’m coming down with a cold and I just can’t let Molly catch it.”

Ignacio’s curious expression softened.

“And…and I wondered if I could stay here for a couple of days until it passed,” Daniel continued, sending a small glance towards Betty. She knew he was going to play the sympathy card, even if it was a genuine response. “Normally I’d stay at a hotel, but I’m just so used to living with someone…I fear I’d be uh, a little lonely.”

Of course, Papi had a soft spot for Daniel. More so now than ever. “When you put it that way, I suppose you can stay.” Daniel brightened a tad at the news. “But you’ll be sleeping on the couch and I expect it to be tidy by the time I come down to make breakfast.”

“Of course,” Daniel nodded in agreement. “Thank you so much, Mr. Suarez.”

“Ignacio,” he corrected, “I told you before—your family, remember that.” He nodded towards Betty. “Why don’t you help me in the kitchen while Daniel gets settled?”

Huffing, she followed her Papi back towards the kitchen, but not without sending Daniel a stubborn glare.

He gave a smug smile back, already making his way into the living room.

Once they were back in the kitchen, her Papi went about setting the last of tamales—both beef and vegetarian for himself—on to the serving dish while she scooped out the rest of the _fideo_ and _frijoles_ on to their own designated plates.

“He needs to go home,” Betty muttered to her father. “He’s being paranoid about getting sick again. He did this last week when he heard both Amanda and I caught a cold and didn’t take a sick day. He swore he had fever and it was, like it has been for the last week, between 97.2 and 98.2. Normal. Absolutely normal.”

“Maybe he isn’t sick,” Ignacio conceded, “but that doesn’t mean something isn’t wrong.”

“His wife is dying. I’m pretty sure that’s what’s wrong.” Betty sighed sadly, knowing it must have not been easy for Daniel. But that didn’t mean he needed to run away from his problems. “I didn’t mean to be sharp with him, but he’s becoming ‘Needy Daniel’ again. And while I love Daniel, I am not fond of ‘Needy Daniel.’”

“Maybe he needs a friend right now,” her Papi suggested, “and your that friend.” He finished up pulling the tamales from the steamer, setting his tongs back down on the counter. “It’s just for the weekend, mija. I’m sure this will pass.”

He left her in the kitchen, announcing to the house dinner was ready.

Her Papi was right. It was just for the long weekend. Daniel’s paranoia would pass. She just had to give it time.

* * *

Giving him time felt like waiting for the train in an overcrowded subway—annoying, frustrating, and a little bit hopeless, but overall eventful even if she didn’t want to deem it so.

Betty nearly tore her hair out during dinner. Daniel was acting like his world was fine—laughing at Justin’s jokes and listening to Hilda rant about her clients like it was the latest breaking news. He had seconds and even shared a little about some of the office happenings, Betty chiming in whenever appropriate.

Her friend looked more relaxed than he’d been in ages.

Her Papi had helped him set up the couch for bed, and had late night decaf coffee and oatmeal cookies with Daniel. They chatted late into night.

Of what? Betty wasn’t sure, but when she went down for a glass of water somewhere between one and two in the morning, she found Daniel struggling to get comfortable on the couch.

Upon hearing her steps, he stilled.

“I know you’re awake,” Betty whispered, stepping closer to the couch. “I’ve figured out when you fake sleep within the first few weeks of working at MODE.”

“Really?” he mumbled back. Shifting on his side to face her, he squinted. “How?”

“You breathe too deep to the point you look like you’re a fire breathing dragon.”

“Oh,” he exhaled. “Well that explains why Mom always knew when I stood up late on a school night.”

“Probably.”

Smothering a laugh, Betty made her way over to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses and filled them each with water. As she made her way back, she stopped in the living room and deposited one glass on the coffee table.

“Sometimes drinking water helps,” she told him, patting his shoulder.

Daniel sent her a small, grateful smile. He sat up and accepted the drink, taking a sip.

“You know…” Betty began, sitting on the arm of the couch, “you can tell me anything.”

He paused mid-sip, eyeing her carefully. Swallowing, he set his glass of water back down. “I know.”

“So…if there is anything bothering you…”

Daniel seemed unkeen on the idea, shifting on the couch. Distracting himself. “I just a cold, Betty. I’m fine. Really.”

“Okay…” Realizing she wasn’t going to get out of him, she stood up. “If you need anything, I’ll be upstairs okay? Second door on the right.”

“Got it.” He nodded once. “Get rest, Betty. I mean it.”

“You too.”

Taking his word to heart, Betty tried, but all she could think about was Daniel downstairs on the couch, unable to fall asleep and not in his own home.

And how she maybe couldn’t fix this. Whatever this may be.

* * *

“So you’re not going to work?” Betty asked Daniel, staring down at his casual attire of denim jeans and grey t-shirt. He was sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand and mouthful of pink _concha._

“ _I’m ow for bif-mess_ ,” Daniel said between mouthfuls. He sipped his coffee, humming in contentment. He looked well at home in her family’s kitchen, reaching over to hand Justin a banana as he took the open seat beside Daniel.

Betty rolled her eyes. “Fake business, Daniel. Fake business.”

“MODE will be fine.” Daniel swallowed his food, then motioned to his laptop sitting on the table. “I can answer emails from here. My phone will be charged. I’ll be fine.”

“Why are you here again?” Justin asked as Papi set a bowl of oatmeal down in front of him. The teen’s nose wrinkled; mornings of papas and chorizo were over with Papi’s health to consider. As a family they’d been attempting to act in solidarity with Ignacio’s change of diet, but sometimes, such as Oatmeal Fridays, made it difficult to embrace a supportive attitude. “Not that I mind,” Justin sent Betty a small glance, as though assuring her he wasn’t being too rude, “but you don’t really come by often anymore…”

His remark was met with a swat on the back of his head, the morning newspaper the culprit. “Justin! That’s not how we treat guests in this house,” Hilda scolded. She huffed down at her son, only to smile half a second later at Daniel. “Morning! Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, like a baby the moment my head hit the pillow.” Well that was a fat lie.

Betty frowned at the back of his head, nearly over pouring her mug. Hissing at the hot drink, she set her cup down and mopped up what she sloshed on the counter.

“Good, I know that couch isn’t the most comfortable,” Hilda sympathized. Ignacio handed off a steaming bowl of oatmeal to his eldest. She reached for the cinnamon shaker on the table and cover the off-white, beige dish in warm brown powder until it was no more. “I keep telling Papi we should just get a new one, but no! He’s had it since we were kids and he’s not gonna give it up.”

“Stop hogging all the cinnamon,” Justin muttered, grabbing the shaker before his mother used it all. “It’s the only thing that makes this bearable.”

She shook her head at her son and reached past him for a spoon from the stack Papi had set on the table. “Stop complaining. It’s good for you. It’s good for Papi, and if you eat it all, maybe I’ll let you get some pan dulce on the way out.”

Justin sighed and dug into his oatmeal. “The things I do for edible food.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to have breakfast, I need to get going,” Betty announced as she dumped the remains of her coffee in the sink, “some of us have to go to work. In Manhattan.” She shrugged on her coat, staring hard at Daniel. He stealthily avoided her gaze. “Where we have deadlines. For an issue that goes out next week—”

“We get it, you work,” Hilda waved her sister off, making her way to the back of the house to her salon. “See you later.”

Betty pursed her lips, butting up her coat with more haste and rough handle than necessary. “Wow, it’s such a long walk to the station…if only I had company…”

Justin looked back at her, brows furrowed. “It’s not _that_ long a walk. It takes me longer to get to school than get to the subway.”

Groaning, Betty shook her head. Stepping up to Daniel, she motioned him to get up. “Come on. Walk with me to the subway.”

He stared up at her, blue eyes shining with hesitance.

“I promise I won’t trick you into going in today,” she relented, nudging his arm to get him going. “Especially since you are ‘sick’ and on your fake business trip.”

“Don’t worry, Daniel,” Ignacio called out, “I’ll keep your oatmeal warm!”

That was enough to spur Daniel into agreement. “Sure. Let’s walk.”

* * *

The sun was beginning to peak over the buildings, the morning beginning to set into motion. As they made their trek through Queens, Daniel and Betty remained silent, strides in tandem as he followed her down the familiar paths of her neighborhood.

Betty want to poke and pry, knowing there was more than just catching a cold involved in Daniel’s sudden paranoia and impromptu camp in her living room. He never revealed his thoughts on the surface, despite many thinking he was a foolish sort of man.

Daniel had depth—fears, concerns, demons—but only someone fluent in his closed off demeanor and mannerisms could decipher beyond the surface level.

They stopped about a block away from her subway stop, Daniel purchasing them both a cup of coffee at the corner cart. As they continued on their walk, he focused down on his coffee, as though it held the answers to the universe.

“Your dad took my temperature this morning,” Daniel finally said as they wait for the crosswalk.

“And?”

“98.2.” He looked to her, meeting her gaze for the first time since last night. “Normal.”

“So what do you think is causing all these ‘cold’ symptoms?” Betty asked instead of throwing an ‘I told you so,’ in his face.

“I…I don’t know,” he answered, a break in his voice. “I just…I don’t want her to get sick and maybe…maybe it is just allergies with the weather changing.” He sniffed, a tight frown forming on his lips. “I just…I—I needed to get away.”

“From what?”

“From…” He shrugged, stuffing his free hand into his coat pocket. “Is it wrong to say what I want to say?”

_What could he possibly…_

Then it donned on her.

Betty’s eyes widen. “Oh, Daniel…”

“I love her. I love her so much, I do.” He sputtered out. “But she’s always talking about what my life will be like when she’s gone and…” A sharp exhale rattled through him. “And I just…I just want us to be _normal_. Not think about her dying, but…but…” He ducked his head down, sucking in air. “But that’s impossible and I don’t think I want to have another conversation where she imagines who I’d be sharing a bed with once she’s gone.”

The cross light turned on, signaling them to make their way down the street.

But Betty stayed rooted in place.

“I…I can’t help you with that—”

“I know.” He lifted his head, eyes bloodshot. “But some people do.”

It suddenly made sense why he wanted to stay with her, at her house.

Her Papi understood. Even if it wasn’t the same—Daniel only knew Molly for a few months, while Papi had decades with Mama—there was understanding. An understanding his colleagues and few friends did not have. Not even her.

“But I can listen.”

“But can you listen and try not to fix things?”

His question stuck her in the gut. “What?”

“Can you listen,” Daniel repeated, “and try not to fix things? Because Betty,” he gave a sad smile, “this can’t be fixed. It’s going to happen sooner or later.”

Her hand reached for his, giving a quick and firm squeeze. “I can listen.”

* * *

She called in and explained needing to take a half day, she would be making it in before the afternoon meeting to take notes, and how she’d be reached via email or text—if anyone noticed both her and Daniel were gone, they didn’t say anything. It wasn’t odd to see them together, where a Meade was to go a Suarez was sure to follow. At least that’s what the rumor mill claimed when Betty last cared to listen.

They sat together in a diner and Daniel talked.

He talked about Molly. Everything about her—how she made him smile, how she made him sad or confused, how she wanted him to be happy. How he wasn’t too sure what that meant to her, his happiness.

He talked about the future; how he didn’t want to think about it. How he didn’t want to entertain the thought of being married to anyone but Molly, but she somehow started planting the seeds and now it was always lingering in the back of his mind.

“Well, who do you picture yourself with besides Molly?” Betty asked, cutting her fork into the apple pie she and Daniel shared. He was waiting for her to dig in first before he grabbed his own forkful.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to try to fix things?” Daniel shoved his fork into the buttery crust. He popped the piece into his mouth, chewing with more energy than he did moments earlier when he lazily poked at his omelet.

“I’m not, I’m just talking. Asking a question so I can listen better.” She nudged him a piece with whipped cream, Daniel scooping it up without missing a beat.

“I…” Daniel turned his gaze out the window, watching as people passed by. “I always figured I’d settle with a model, or an actress, or the sex appeal equivalent, but…” His focus returned back to the pie between them. “I just can’t see that now. That’s not me.”

Betty’s lips twitched; oh look far Daniel had come. The man she knew three years ago would have never thought of marriage or settling down, but now…now Daniel was different. She liked to believe for the better.

“Who does Molly see you with?”

“It’s always different. A different scenario, a different personality, just…different. Like she is playing Mad-Libs.”

“No commonalities between any of them?”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I guess just that—that they’d see me for me, maybe make me happy.” A flush came up his neck, apparently feeling like he spoke too much. “Enough about me,” he said between shaky breathes. “How about you? How’s it living with your Dad again?”

She deflated at the change of topic. “As well as you can imagine.”

“Does someone sleep walk in the house? Because I swear I heard footsteps multiple times last night.”

A chortle coursed through Betty. “Maybe it’s a ghost.”

“Don’t joke about that!” Daniel cried out, eyes wide and serious. “Ghosts can be very real.”

“I can assure you there are no ghosts in my house,” Betty said between chuckles.

“For some reason I still don’t believe you.”

Fighting over the last few pieces of pie, Betty and Daniel finished up their shared dessert. Once they were done, Betty insisted on paying, the decision made easily due to the fact the establishment only accepted cash. She went up to the check-out counter while Daniel waited for her outside.

As she waited in line, the light morning crowd getting ready to pay, the elderly woman standing ahead of he gave her a short but kind smile. “I gotta say, you and your husband are adorable.”

Betty blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You and your husband.” She waved to where Daniel stood outside, scrolling through his phone. “I haven’t seen a couple that engrossed with each other in ages. Nothing else in the world matters but you two, eh?”

Betty looked back at Daniel.

Head ducked down. Rushing to open the door for an elderly woman. Going back to observing this little corner of Queens, like it was foreign land but still home.

Then his eyes met hers. He smiled; a first since he arrived at her doorstep.

For a moment Betty let herself think—

Maybe in another world, Daniel was her husband.

An absurd thought, but one she entertained.

He’d be thoughtful; he always remembered to get her a birthday gift and drop it off with someone—anyone who he knew she’d come in contact at least once a day—even if he forgot the day because Daniel was Daniel and a forgetful dufus sometimes. But he’d remember the little things; how she liked her coffee, that detailed notes of pieces were her favorite kind of notes, and walks around the city were her go to when she needed to think. He tried his best to make her smile when she was down, and spoke from the heart, even if it was to his detriment. He loved her. He did. He said so on several occasions. He’d probably always love her and she the same for him.

He tried to be better for her, even if he made mistakes and occasionally went kicking and screaming.

And yeah, maybe they did act like nothing else mattered when they were in their own little world…

But it honestly should not have been that way. And she couldn’t think of Daniel beyond the friendship she already possessed with him; all the instances of romance she attempted to picture fell flat, just replaced with nice memories she shared with him over the last few years.

“Oh, he’s not my husband,” Betty corrected, “he’s my best friend.”

The woman’s eyes dimmed. “Ya could fooled me.”

“Next!”

Betty stepped up to pay, leaving her absurd thoughts with the woman behind her.

* * *

“Daniel! I thought you’d still be in Boston,” Molly greeted when her husband entered the apartment. She was sitting on the couch, curled up with a blanket and hot chocolate, watching TV. She made a move to get up, but he bet her to the punch, coming for an embrace before her feet could touch the floor. “Oh! Hello to you too,” she chuckled.

Betty hoped she could creep by the scene and drop off Daniel’s laptop bag without being seen before taking off to Queens for the evening.

However, such an act was impossible with Molly.

“Betty! I didn’t realize you were here.” She pulled away from Daniel, he taking a seat beside her. “Come in, come in. Do you want anything to drink?” Molly stood up, swatting away Daniel’s hands, urging her to stay. She seemed tired, but happy and looking for company. “I can make you some tea. Do you have a preference?”

Unsure of what to do, Betty’s eyes darted to Daniel. “Uh—”

He stood up, ready to bail her out of the situation. Molly and Betty weren’t close; were friendly but not as close Daniel hoped they’d be. He lamented as such on several occasions, to both women. “Betty was just helping with—”

“With the Boston trip,” she supplied, knowing Daniel would fumble his way through the lie. “He needed help, we got done quick, and now he is safe and at home with you.”

“Yep,” Daniel nodded. “Now that tea!” He clapped his hands together and walked around Molly, towards the kitchen. “You sit back down and I’ll make you some tea.”

“I already have—” Daniel was in the kitchen, leaving Molly and Betty in the living area. “—hot chocolate,” she finished quietly. Taking her seat on the couch, she motioned for Betty to do the same. “Sit, please. Make yourself at home.”

Not wanting to be rude, Betty sat down in the open arm chair closest to the door. The spot she often picked when Molly had coaxed her in when she dropped off work for Daniel, or picked up prescriptions; the usual assistant work.

“So how was Boston?” Molly asked, more than curious about the sudden trip. “Daniel never mentioned he had a business trip.”

Betty’s eyes darted to the kitchen, she catching a glimpse of Daniel carefully choosing mugs. He set aside three; one for Molly, Betty, and himself.

“It was…” Betty gave a big shrug, her focus shifting to the kitchen every so often. “Pretty boring.”

Molly followed Betty’s gaze. A soft sigh rolled through her, piece by piece.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Betty,” Molly told her, her voice gentle and understanding. She waved for the younger woman to come closer, patting the spot beside her. Knowing better than to argue, Betty sat down in the offered seat. “Daniel didn’t go to Boston, did he?”

Betty shook her head, lips screwed shut.

“He went to you, right?” Molly asked, more hopeful than judgmental of her husband’s actions.

Betty gave her a single nod.

“I thought so.” Her head hung low, giving her own nod. Soft hands reached for Betty’s, clasping their hands together. “I’m glad he went to you.”

Brows furrowed, Betty struggled to find the words. “But—”

“You’re his best friend,” Molly stated matter-of-factly, unbothered by the truth. “Something is bothering him,” she admitted, “he’s not as good at hiding how he feels as he thinks he is.”

Betty snorted. “I think he likes to believe he is capable of spy level deception. But he’s not even close.”

A gleeful giggle came from Molly, she holding Betty’s hands tighter. “I’m so, so glad he has you. I mean it, Betty.”

“I promised someone important I’d take care of him.” The image of Mr. Meade laying in a hospital bed was seared in her mind, his final words to her, about his son. Bradford Meade opened the doors for her, even if it felt like a false opportunity in the beginning, she cared for the man despite his many— _many_ —flaws. And she cared for Daniel. There was no hesitation in keep her promise close to heart. “I try my best to keep my promise.”

“One day I think he’ll return the favor. He cares about you too much to not.”

Just as Betty began to speak, Daniel came back to the living room. Tray in hand, one that was clearly Molly’s and not his, he set down their tea on the coffee table

“Alright I have chamomile for Molly.” He passed of the mug to his wife, she taking it with a small smile. “And a lavender for Betty. I made sure to put in a little soy milk and honey,” he announced as he passed off the blue mug to her. She accepted the drink, noticing Daniel was beyond a little proud of himself.

“You remembered how I like it,” Betty teased. He waited for her to taste the tea, sitting on edge. To please him, she took a tentative sip. “Mmm. And it tastes good! You did good, Daniel.”

“Of course it tastes good!” Daniel sat up, a little offended despite her praise. “Do you know how much I had to bribe the guy from that café off of—”

Betty perked up, recalling where she had her first and most wonderful lavender tea. “The one with the green mohawk?”

“ _Yes_ —how much I had to bribe him to tell me which brand of lavender tea he uses, and how to make that tea,” he pointed, “exactly the way he does?”

“I don’t want to know,” Betty shook her head, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“You said it was the best tea of your life,” Daniel argued, “I’d be an idiot not to.”

“That’s why we have lavender tea?” Molly interjected, surprised by the revelation. She turned to Betty, leaning her head down to her, as though divulging into a little secret. “I’m not the biggest fan of lavender and I’ve been so confused why he has it stashed in the back of the cabinet.” She turned to Daniel. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Daniel seemed stunned by the question. “I—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Molly waved off, “this just means Betty needs to stop by more often to make sure the tea gets used.”

* * *

After finishing her tea and engaging in small talk with Molly (she wanted to know all the little details of her husband’s friend, from her favorite color to where she went to college; and Daniel made no heed to interrupt the conversation, all too intrigued by the situation), Betty excused herself. “I’ve over stayed my welcome.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Molly walked her to the door while Daniel took their mugs back to the kitchen. “You are always welcomed here; you’re basically family.”

Betty smiled at the remark, “Well then, thank you for having me.”

“Thank you for taking care of Daniel.” Molly brought Betty into a hug, resting her chin against the shorter woman’s shoulder. “I can breathe better knowing you are here.”

Arms wrapped around each other, feeling how tired and frail the woman was becoming, Betty knew these were Molly’s final days.

“Just…hang in there,” Betty muttered, still hugging Molly. The other woman made no move to let go. Just resting. “For a little while longer. For him.”

“I’ll try.” Molly pulled away. She rested her hands in Betty’s, holding on for a second longer.

“Hey Betty,” Daniel called out from inside the apartment, his footsteps coming closer. “I just realized I need to reschedule that meeting I missed today—”

The women’s hands released, Molly giving one more tight squeeze before she let go.

“Already done. Monday at 2 o’clock.”

“Thank you. You’re the best.” Daniel wrapped an arm around Molly’s shoulders. He looked every bit like the dotting husband. “Get home safe okay. Text me when you get home.”

“I’ll be fine,” Betty told him, like she always did, “but just I’ll text you when I get back home.” She turned on her heel, beginning to make her way to the elevator.

“Thank you!” He called out. “See you Monday!”

“Bye, Daniel,” she said back, waving for him to go back into his and Molly’s apartment. He went with an annoyed frown.

But she saw his smile emerge as he closed the door.

* * *

“Where do you see you and Betty in ten years?”

Face pressed against the pillow, Daniel cracked an eyes open. His beside clock showed it was half past midnight, and he wife wanted to have another ‘future’ conversation.

Yawing, he turned over to face Molly. She laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling in thought.

“Betty and I?” he echoed. He mulled over the thought of him and Betty, with all her smiles and judge-y nudge-y looks. “I think in ten years…she will have her own magazine and I’ll be her assistant.”

“Daniel, I’m serious,” Molly scolded lightly.

“I am too,” he insisted, more awake than he’d been second ago. “She’s brilliant. She deserves to have her own magazine one day; if it wasn’t for her, MODE would be dead or lost from Meade forever. She’s honestly the only reason I can do my job right.”

“Don’t say that,” Molly’s head lulled to the side, her eyes landing on him, “you’re great at your job.”

“ _Now_.” All he could think about was how out of depth he’d been those first few months. How he was flying by the seat of his pants, and somehow a girl who was far too optimistic and wore too many bright colors helped him figure out how to be an Editor-in-Chief. “I’m okay at my job now. But I wasn’t in the beginning.”

Molly’s hand reached over and patted down his hair. Strands of hair had a habit of sticking up when he slept, Daniel living all his life with a proper bedhead each morning.

“I meant in life; in your friendship. Where would you and Betty be in ten years?”

“Oh…” Daniel consider ten years’ time; a difficult task. “I think…I hope,” he corrected, “we’re still friends. She’s still hanging out with me while I become boring and think a new tie is the coolest thing since sliced bread,” he mumbled, chuckling a little into his pillow. “That even in twenty years’ time we still eat greasy food and sing karaoke for a discount we don’t need.”

“You…you see yourself growing old with her?”

“Um,” his eyes squeezed shut, another yaw sneaking it’s way through him, “yeah, I guess. In a way. She’s my best friend; I hope she’s always around.”

“You love…” she exhaled, swallowing down the rest of her thought.

“I love you too, Molly,” Daniel mumbled, apparently not hearing her. He leaned forward pressing his lips to corner of her mouth.

Once his lips left her skin, he slumped back into the pillows, falling back into deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOLLY. UGH. MY HEART.
> 
> I don't recall Betty interacting with Molly often, or maybe they did and season 3 (as always) is a blur for me (SOOOO much happened that season it is difficult to remember that yeah, it all happened in one season), lol, but I really wanted to put this moment in there. 
> 
> **SPANISH WORDS TIME**
> 
> **fideo: This is technically a Mexican pasta and is often served as 'sopa de fideo.' Basically fideo soup. It is short, thin pasta that is cooked similar to rice (browning, butter, seasoning, water etc) when not served as a soup. Sometimes lots of different food it thrown into it, like chicken and olives, or really whatever you want. It is the ultimate comfort food and really easy to whip up when in a pinch.**
> 
> **frijoles: Beans. That's all frijoles are. They can be the mashed kind with lots of cheese or the sopa kind with bacon, broth, and chile all cooked together. Or really any way, but those two are the most common.**
> 
> **tamales: if you don't know what a tamale is, you are missing out. BIG TIME. Traditionally meat wrapped in masa (cornmeal dough, which can also be seasoned and flavor, sometimes containing other meaty fats) and wrapped in a corn husk. This delicious concoction is then steamed from 45 to 2 hours depending on who is making it, before it is close to being consumed. So if you ever read anything where someone makes tamales and they just throw them together, that's not accurate at all. It takes timmmmmeee. Especially if you want them good. And no one makes a couple of tamales, we are talking at least a dozen, more so several dozes. Tamales can be breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Ever Latin culture makes tamales a little differently, and every family makes tamales differently, but no matter how they are made, everyone has opinions on tamales. ******
> 
> ****Anyways...** **
> 
> ****Let me know what you think! Love chatting with readers about the fic! :D** **

**Author's Note:**

> By the way I havent used Skype in a few years. But I've always had issues with it, lol.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated :D


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